In Plain Sight
by JenniferR.Song
Summary: AU Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. Or has he? Between an imposter walking the halls, a DADA teacher with more books than brains, and a spate of mysterious petrifications, can Chris keep his secret identity intact? Now in Year 2. BEING REWRITTEN!
1. Chapter 1

Hello! First off, to those that read _Prongs Rides Again 2_, please be advised that that story is on indefinite hiatus. I realize it has been a year since anything meaningful was posted and it may take another year to get the swing back into it, else I would be updating with lousy chapters and I know y'all don't want _that_.

Okay, that's done with, so I feel a little better. This is my main project for 2009. I'm still trying to decide whether or not to split this into separate years or keep it all together under one story. Let me know which you would prefer. Until then, please read this little chapter. The next will take place ten years later, similar to, but different than canon.

**Summary**: AU The night Harry was left on the Dursleys' doorstop, he was taken away by a strange woman. Ten years later, he shows up at Hogwarts under a different name and appearance. But who is the woman who rescued him from his fate? And why? Manipulative!Dumbledore.

**Disclaimer for Entire Story**: This story, though it uses JK's characters, is not the property of said author. She creates the characters, then lets us fanfiction writers play with them. Also, should this story in any way resemble another author's work, it is entirely coincidental.

**Note**: The timeline has been shifted forward ten years. Mostly because I want to have all the technical advances inherent with the 21st century. I will state this again in the next chapter; afterwards, I will assume that you know this and will not repeat it over and over again.

* * *

"The best place to hide something is in plain sight."  
–Sherlock Holmes–

Chapter I: Tractus Abeo

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen.

Yet, something astonishing _did_ happen there that no one saw.

In the shadow of a nearby tree, a piece of it suddenly ballooned up and out, forming a roughly human shape. It melted away like slick oil, leaving behind a woman dressed in black flowing robes. She looked at her surroundings, shook her head and, with undisguised disgust, threw away a mask that had been in her hands.

"I was too late," she murmured. But she could not afford to waste time, especially now. She had a job to do and a limited window in which to do it.

Her waist-length hair (blonde with dark red-and-black highlights that somehow didn't clash) gently bounced as she made her way to the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive, where a baby lay in his blankets, sound asleep. Her dark blue eyes flickered back and forth from the child to the door. It wouldn't do for _them_ to catch her outside their home.

Gently, she scooped up the child and the letter Dumbledore had left, tucking that inside her robes, whilst pulling out another letter. As quietly as she could, she put it through the mail slot, wincing as it clicked a little.

From another pocket, she pulled five golf-ball-shaped, clear crystal rocks that pulsed a different color every few seconds. With her wand, she carved a space under the front porch just a little bigger than the rock. She put the rock in and with another wave of the wand, the hole sealed up. She put another in a carved spot above the doorframe, which she sealed up as well. One apiece went on either side of the doorframe, in the same way as their counterparts. With a slight hiss, the four sealed areas glowed and formed a solid shimmering rectangle. She tested it by touching it and was rewarded when her hand could not pass the border. A complex wave of her wand and the rectangle bloomed until it covered the whole house and vanished. She pocketed the fifth, which was now glowing a steady sapphire blue.

Her work done, she briskly walked to the end of the walkway, where she grimly smiled at the picture-perfect house that belonged to the Dursleys' before turning on her heel and disappearing into thin air.

* * *

Early the next morning, when Petunia retrieved the mail, she was surprised to see a letter addressed to her. She silently gave the rest of the letters to her husband, who was stuffing his face with eggs and bacon and, ignoring her screaming son, fled to her room.

She ripped open the letter, barely noticing it was made of parchment. Her eyes darted back and forth as she read, then re-read the letter. Perhaps it was a good thing she had decided to sit on her bed while she read it, because she fainted dead away, the letter slipping from her fingers and onto the bed. Its contents read:

_Mrs. Petunia Dursley,_

_You do not know me, neither do you wish to, believe me. But I implore you to read this letter regardless._

_Late Halloween night, your sister and brother-in-law, Lily and James Potter, were killed. Their son, Harry, survived due to his mother's sacrifice. Originally, Harry would have been sent to live with you and your family, as you are his last living blood relative, but because of the hatred you harbor (perhaps now harbored?) toward your sister, the protection her death would have given your family would not have worked. The protection would require that you love Harry as if he were your own son. Obviously, you would not, he being Lily's child and inheriting her abilities._

_I have taken Harry with me, to be raised in a truly loving environment. If a certain meddling headmaster decides to "check up" on Harry when you are out of your house (I will explain in a moment), tell him this:_

"_Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Suffering leads to death."_

_Love cannot blossom from this circle. It is crushed before it has a chance to be seeded._

_I have placed special crystals that will prevent anybody with magical blood from crossing your threshold so long as either you call it home or it still stands, whichever is broken first. Only then will it be vulnerable to attack. The crystals will take any magic directed at them and return them thrice-fold at the attacker. This includes the famed Killing Curse. But be advised: the crystals' magic only applies to your home. If you are attacked in a public location by magical beings, you can be hurt or killed, just the same as in a Muggle attack. The protection on your house will continue so long as one of your blood calls it home. But if the worse should happen, you may summon me by tapping the corners of your door in a counterclockwise motion thrice each, order not important._

_I therefore leave your family alone, ignorant of Harry, and ignorant of the magical world. This letter will turn to ashes sixty seconds from reading the last word._

_Goodbye, Petunia Dursley. I hope our paths never cross again._

No name was signed, but that was understandable. As the letter softly turned to ashes on the pristinely made sheets, all over the country, glasses were being raised and toasts being made "To Harry Potter – the boy who lived!"

* * *

The sun was just beginning to peek over the mountains when Albus Dumbledore arrived back in his office at Hogwarts. He hummed happily, popping a lemon drop in his mouth. All was going to plan. It had been a shame for Lily and James to die, but being raised with the Dursleys' would bring Harry down enough so that he would become dependent on Dumbledore. Plus, with Sirius safely tucked away in Azkaban, there was no chance he could interfere. Oh, he knew he was innocent, having read Sirius's memory of Peter becoming the Secret-Keeper, but the joy when Peter did what Dumbledore could not have dreamed of was making him giddy.

From his perch, Fawkes stared at him disapprovingly, but could do nothing. A curse had been put on him long ago that bound him and Dumbledore to each other, to fool the Order of the Phoenix into thinking Dumbledore was a Light wizard. The curse worked both ways, however; Dumbledore couldn't get rid of him either unless he lifted the curse.

Dumbledore watched the silver devices in front of him, which were still and silent. In a few minutes, Petunia Dursley would open her door and find Harry on the doorstop, read the letter, and begrudgingly allow him room. Then the devices would start working as the Blood Wards activated. Yes, they existed, but only because of Dumbledore's interference. Without the silver devices, the wards would run on love alone. Now, they ran on Dumbledore's magical devices as well, drawing any needed energy into the wards to sustain them.

Dumbledore waited patiently. And waited. And waited.

He popped another lemon drop in his mouth.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

After an hour had passed, the devices still hadn't activated. He frowned and, with a few well-chosen curses, both magical and Muggle, disappeared from his office.

He reappeared in the same spot he had last night. The houses looked exactly the same in the daytime, except busier as people left the houses for work. He made his way up to Number 4 Privet Drive and knocked.

At least, he tried to.

The result was that he drew back a stinging hand. He frowned and tried again, with the same results.

Finally, he had enough and discreetly drew out his wand. With a murmured, but forceful, "_Alohomora_," he smugly watched the spell head toward the doorknob, but suddenly, it ricocheted back at the last second. It plowed into him, sending him head over heels backward.

Stunned, he could do nothing, but pick himself up and leave in a hurry, as he was attracting far too much attention from the occupants of Numbers 6 and 7. They watched curiously as the old man darted into the park just on the other side of Privet Drive and disappeared into the shadows.

Back in his office, Fawkes smiled as best as a phoenix could.

* * *

Okay, first chapter done. Now, I need y'all to tell me what you thought, if you want more, stuff like that. But that requires reviewing. So please press that green writing just below this paragraph and tell me what you thought.


	2. Chapter 2

So, I take it I've got your attention, then? Good. And I didn't mean for my character's description to sound like a Mary-Sue. I've just got four semesters of college English behind me and four years of hard high school English behind that. So, believe me when I say proper grammar and correct spelling has been practically pounded into my head for a good portion of my life.

Please note, the timeline has been shifted forward ten years. Last mention of it.

Well, what are you standing around for? Read on!

* * *

Chapter II: Thine Own Self

"Chris!"

With a start, Christopher James Evans woke up, his sapphire blue eyes wide. He had lived with his adoptive mother, Rose, since he was just over a year old. He rolled over and tried to pull the covers over his face, but they were pulled off him by magic.

"Mum!" he whined.

"No, it's time to get up," said Rose from the doorway, her wand in her hand. She smirked as her son rolled out of the bed onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Mmpf," he grunted, his black hair with auburn-red highlights sticking out all over the place.

"Breakfast is ready, by the way," she said casually and left Chris to get dressed on his own.

Chris yawned and stumbled to his closet, picking out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt advertising his favorite Quidditch team, the Caerphilly Catapults. He managed to make his way to the breakfast table and slump into a chair.

"Mom, why'd you wake me up? I like sleeping in on Saturdays," he grumbled.

Rose simply smiled and pointed at Chris's plate. There, on top, was his Hogwarts letter.

"Finally!" he shouted, all traces of sleepiness gone. He ripped open the letter (addressed to _Mr. C. Evans, 7 Emerald Way, Adamsdown, Cardiff, Wales_) and read it, his eyes flying across the words, drinking them in as if he could not really believe them.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,  
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Evans, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

Chris grinned from ear to ear. "I got in!"

Rose ruffled his hair, ignoring his protestations. "Of course you did."

He read the letter again. "Can we go to Diagon Alley today, then?"

Rose nodded. "Of course. I need to go pick up some potion ingredients."

Chris wrinkled his nose. Potions ingredients smelled funny. Rose laughed.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll go pick up the ingredients and your Potions kit while you're getting fitted for your robes."

Chris nodded, all too willing to avoid the Apothecary.

"Now, eat your breakfast and then we'll Floo to Diagon Alley."

The boy did as he was told, and before his mother could blink, he had eaten his food just as fast as if he had Vanished it with magic and appeared, ready to go, at the fireplace. Rose picked up the container with the Floo powder and offered it to her son. He scooped up a generous handful and threw it in the fire.

"Diagon Alley!" he shouted and with a _whoosh_, he was gone. She scooped up her own handful and followed him.

They appeared in the Leaky Caldron. Tom, the barkeeper, grinned toothily at them.

"Hello, Ms. Evans!" he greeted her. "And how's young Chris today?"

"_Chris_ hates Flooing," grumbled Chris, brushing soot off himself. His glasses had somehow broken during the trip. With a sigh and a flick of her wand, Rose repaired them. "Thanks, Mom."

"You need to be more careful with your glasses," his mother gently chided him. "I don't know why in Merlin's name they break every time you Floo."

Chris shrugged and followed his mother out into the alleyway, where she tapped the bricks with her wand, opening up the entrance to Diagon Alley.

Everything was going fine until Chris went to Madam Malkin's alone. When he stepped in, another boy was being fitted for his robes. A pale boy with a long thin face and white-blond hair.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

Chris nodded. "My first year." He held out his right hand. "Chris Evans."

The boy sniffed, but held out his hand as well. "Draco Malfoy. Evans. That's a common name."

Chris shrugged. "It's my surname. What does it matter if I'm pureblood or Muggle-born? Besides, isn't magical power more important than blood status? Which would you rather have on your side? A pureblood with less magical power than a Squib or a Muggle-born who could do wandless magic?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. For about five minutes there was silence, then the conversation began again while Madam Malkin fussed with their robes.

"So, what House do you want to go into?"

"I don't know," said Chris. "Any of them would be good, I guess."

"Slytherin's the best," said Draco. "My father says it would be a crime if I didn't get in Slytherin."

"What about you?"

"What?"

Chris rephrased his question. "What House do _you_ want to go in?"

Draco looked taken aback at the question. He thought for a moment. "I want to make my father proud. But I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. Definitely not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, though."

Chris nodded. "Lucky you. I never knew my father. He was killed shortly before Voldemort was vanquished."

Draco flinched. "Don't say his name!"

"What, Voldemort? He's not gonna show up just 'cause I said his name. Besides, from what I've read, he's not even a pureblood."

Now he had Draco's full attention. "What?"

"It's true," said Chris. "Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Merope Gaunt Riddle, a pureblood, and Tom Riddle, a Muggle. It's recorded in _Wizarding Genealogies of the Twentieth Century_, I believe."

Draco's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something back, but was interrupted by Madame Malkin saying "All done, dearie." He quickly paid for his robes and darted out of the store, only stopping long enough to say, "See you at Hogwarts, then."

As he left, Rose came in the door. She looked at the boy's retreating back and hoped that Draco's mind was truly open to new possibilities. If he was, that could save her a lot of work in the future. If not…well, one step at a time.

They stopped at Eeylop's Owl Emporium, where Chris was captivated by a white owl with amber eyes.

"I'll name her Hedwig," he said firmly, remembering the name from his _History of Magic _book, one of the first he had gotten and read to himself at an early age. The hoot she gave showed her agreement.

They finished up their shopping at Ollivander's, where they were greeted by the mysterious man who ran the shop.

"Hello there. I don't believe I know your names, which is a first for me."

"Rose Evans," said Chris's mother. "And this is my son, Chris."

Ollivander squinted at Rose. "I don't believe I ever sold you a wand, Mrs. Evans."

"_Miss_ Evans. And no, you didn't." The expression on her face and the tautness in her voice said that this was the end of this particular conversation.

"Very well, then, Mr. Evans, which is your wand hand?"

"Right."

"Good, good, let's start with this one."

He handed the boy a wand. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible."

Chris took the wand, but nothing happened. It was snatched out of his hand and another pressed into it.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy"

Nothing happened this time either.

"Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy"

To everyone's surprise, the wand reacted instantly, throwing out what appeared to be a silver mist.

"Oh, well done!" clapped Ollivander. "The beginnings of a patronus at such a young age! Quite powerful! We will see great things from you, Mr. Evans. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great and powerful things as well. _Terrible_, yes. But great!"

Rose paid for the wand and, shrinking everything else, they set out for the Leaky Cauldron, their shopping for the day done. They Flooed home, but Rose seemed to be shaking for some reason.

"Mum, what's wrong?"

She blew out a breath, unlocking Hedwig's cage, who flew lightly around the house before settling on Chris's shoulder. "I thought for a moment there our cover would be blown."

Chris blinked. "Huh?"

She sighed. "There are some things I need to tell you before you go to Hogwarts that can never be spoken to another living soul. Ever."

"Why?"

"Because if these facts get out, you're in danger, I'm in danger, people we've never even _met_ are in danger. But I need to tell you so that you are aware of some things. Do you understand?"

"Mum, you're scaring me." Chris's voice was quivering.

She ran her hands through her hair. "Chocolate. We're gonna need chocolate for this."

As they settled down in the kitchen with cups of hot chocolate, Rose began to talk.

"You know that during the '80s, there was a civil war in the Wizarding world, right?"

"Yes, Mum." He was aware of his wizarding history, how Voldemort had been taken down by a mere one-year-old baby named Harry Potter on Halloween of '91.

"What people don't know is that the day after Harry Potter's parents' murder, the boy was sent to live with his only living relatives, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley."

"Who put him there?" But Chris thought he already knew the answer.

"Albus Dumbledore. He told the world that he had put Harry in the safest place in the world, away from any of Voldemort's remaining followers. But Dumbledore had actually put Harry Potter in an abusive environment, where he would have grown up hating Muggles and anything to do with them. Blindly, the world believed him and went on with its business."

"Where is Harry Potter now?"

Rose smiled. "He's in the safest place in the world."

"Huh?" Chris was still confused. "But you said–"

"Think, son."

Chris thought. Safest place in the world…where could that be? He knew the safest place for him was with his Mom, but…how did his mom know everything about the Dursleys' in the first place, unless…unless she was the one who…who…The pieces fell into place.

"Me?" he squeaked out.

Rose nodded. "Very good. Yes, you were born Harry James Potter, July 31st, 1990. I changed your birthday to the day after when I so that it wouldn't be so suspicious."

Chris's head was still spinning, as though he had gone through the Floo at a million times its normal speed. But Rose continued, dumping even more information than possible on him.

"I knew what would happen if you were raised in that environment and took you away from it. Dumbledore still believes that you are at the Dursley residence, because they have never received the monthly stipend that Dumbledore was sending them out of the main Potter vault and thus had no reason to question something unusual happening at their house. It has actually been sent to a Muggle high-interest savings account by a goblin friend of mine, which you can access when you turn seventeen, if the Hogwarts tuition payments haven't drained it by then. If they haven't, then you will be a millionaire in the Muggle World, as well as in the Wizarding, should you decide to claim your true inheritance when you reach Wizarding Age."

"So, does that mean that I'll still be Chris Evans when I go to school?"

"I believe it would be best, yes. You look different enough that no one will think you are Harry Potter. For instance, your eyes. They are blue, not green. There are a few other charms in place that can't be detected unless you know what you're looking for."

"Where's the scar?"

"Ah, I took you to a Muggle specialist when you were a few years old, remember?"

"Yeah, for my immunizations."

"Well, this one was willing to remove the scar and he did so. One of your immunizations was actually anesthesia. During the operation, however, the scar would not come off. They tried and tried and it seemed like it was under every layer of skin they exposed. But then you just flat-lined for a minute. I did not expect what happened to happen, though."

"What?" asked Chris in a hushed voice.

"A dark mist came out of your scar and started screaming. For a second, it looked like somebody was going to hit the panic button. Wouldn't have worked, seeing as how the spirit's magic was disrupting all the electronic stuff. But then it dissolved. And you came back to life again before they could use the paddles. They were able to remove your scar without difficulty after that."

"What was it?"

"I believe that when Voldemort tried to kill you, and he exploded from the backfired curse, a piece of his soul latched onto you as the nearest living person. Then, when the container for that piece of soul died, even just for a minute, the fragment didn't have a good enough hold to stay attached. Without your life force supporting it, it slipped."

"But why would his soul do that? Split into pieces, I mean."

"The only possible explanation I have is that Voldemort tried to make himself immortal through a Dark ritual and when his soul splintered, it became more fragile, ironically enough."

They continued to drink their hot chocolate in silence. Then Chris spoke.

"Will Dumbledore try to use Legilimency on me when I go to school?"

"Probably. But do you remember those meditation exercises we did when you were growing up?"

"Yeah?"

"All you have to do is concentrate on those, build a wall in your mind and he can't get in."

"But he's older than me! Surely he'll find a way in!"

Rose smiled grimly. "If he tries, he'll find a nasty surprise waiting in there."

"What do you mean?"

"When we did the exercises, I put in a few defenses, just in case you're ever unconscious and he tries to get in your mind. Believe you me, anyone that manages to get that far will quickly regret their actions."

His mother's soothing tone calmed Chris down. But then he was reminded of another question he wanted to ask her.

"Mum, if I'm really Harry Potter underneath the changes, are you still Rose Evans?"

Rose chuckled. "I wish I could tell you, but I can't. Not that bit. Not yet."

"When?"

Rose hesitated, then said, "When I believe you're ready for the truth."

Chris started to argue, but stopped and simply nodded before heading upstairs with all his school supplies, Hedwig bobbling along on his shoulder.

Rose watched him go with a forlorn expression. How she longed to tell him her true identity, to get everything in the open. But if she did and he accidentally slipped up in a public area or somebody else found out somehow, the Ministry would come and lock her up faster than you could say Azkaban.

* * *

Ooh, a little plot development here. BTW, I may be a _Doctor Who_ fan, but this Rose is not related to that Rose, okay, just to clear up that little issue. For one, Billie Piper is not quite the person I would expect for this role. Too young. Another point is her identity, which will not be revealed for many chapters to come. Why? Cause once I do, the big bubble with the word "Surprise" on it will irrefutably pop and unfold yet another dimension to the story.

Another question I expect to be asked is the following: Why did she tell Chris about his true identity so early instead of waiting and letting him innocently enjoy Hogwarts? Quite simple: being a kid, eventually he might accidentally blab to someone something that he wouldn't know needed to be kept secret. Knowing his true identity impresses on him to be extra careful, that there are those that want to do him harm in the Wizarding world.

If that address happens to be a real one, let me know. I tried Google Earth to see if it existed, but nothing came up.

Thanks to the reviewers. I was almost overwhelmed at the mass for just the first chapter:

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, and CrazySmallLady.

Just for clarifying, pairings won't be apparent for a while, but I do have some ideas about who goes with whom. Also, absolutely _no_ slash.

I start college next week, so updates might be sporadic once I get published what I already have written already. Thankfully, only Tuesday and Thursday, right now, unless my schedule changes cause a class got dropped from lack of attendance.

Until the next chapter, read and review.


	3. Chapter 3

I reckon I should forewarn you that there will be Ron and Ginny bashing and probable Mrs. Weasley and Percy bashing. All the others, except for the twins, are still in the air. I'll definitely put the twins on Chris's side, though.

Updates will be up to twice a week, so keep an eye out. With college starting up again, and two of my three classes being upper maths, I'll be doing lots of homework. One of my classes was hanging in the balance, but all's good now. Bright side, I'm taking an aerobics class to work off stress. Yippe!

I think that's it. So, in the words of David Tennant's Doctor, "_Allons-y_!"

* * *

Chapter III: The Hogwarts Express

Saturday, September 1st arrived clear and bright. Chris pushed his trolley through King's Cross Station, his mother a few steps behind. It was ten-fifteen now, plenty of time to catch the train. As they went in, they passed a large red-headed family trying to maneuver their luggage from a taxi. Chris noticed they had an owl and guessed that, based on the amount of kids with red hair, that this was probably a bunch of Weasleys.

They passed through the barrier without any problems and Chris said good-bye to his mother, who was sniffling into a handkerchief. Together, the two of them got the trunk onto a carriage, where he would pull it the rest of the way. Hedwig had already flown ahead and her cage was also in the trunk, albeit shrunk down.

"Mum," he asked her, mindful of the other students getting on. "What if I _am_ sorted into Slytherin?"

She smiled. "Then it'll be the best prank ever pulled on Severus Snape. He just won't know it. And be sure to send me any letters if something strange happens. Or if there's not enough time, go see Professor Snape, whatever House you get into."

With that memory firmly entrenched in his mind, Chris looked forward to the Sorting.

After saying good-bye, he passed several compartments before finding a nearly empty one in the middle. It had only two other people in it who quickly introduced themselves. One was a girl with bushy brown hair already dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, the other a boy with a round face wearing slacks and a polo shirt.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," said the girl.

"Neville Longbottom," whispered the boy shyly.

"Christopher Evans," said Chris, smiling at the two, "but my friends call me Chris."

"So, are you Muggle-born, too?" asked Hermione. She leaned over eagerly, as if trying to absorb any information she could before arriving at Hogwarts.

"No, my Mum's a witch and my dad was a wizard. He died just before Voldemort fell," Chris said. Neville shuddered and Hermione twitched. He wasn't exactly lying, but he wasn't exactly telling the truth either. Now he understood how Obi-Wan Kenobi felt when talking to Luke Skywalker about Darth Vader.

"What about you, Neville?"

"Pureblood, as if that matters," said Neville. He seemed a little uncomfortable talking about blood statuses and the former Dark Lord.

"It doesn't, not really," said Chris. "At least, not to me."

"I was just talking to Neville about where we grew up," said Hermione. "You sound Welsh to me."

"Yep, I live in Cardiff. Nice place."

The train lurched forward and they leaned out to wave good-bye to their parents. Rose was scanning the train and when she saw her son, she gave a wave that he returned.

They settled down to chat more about their home lives but were interrupted by a familiar face, flanked by two unfamiliar ones.

"Hey, Evans," said Draco. "Who're your friends?"

"Oh, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger."

Draco, who had shaken Neville's hand, paused at Hermione's outstretched one.

"Are you related to Hector Dagworth–Granger by any chance, founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No, I'm Muggleborn."

He sneered, withdrawing his hand. "I don't associate with Mud–"

"Don't finish that sentence, Draco," warned Chris, jumping to his feet. "Or have you forgotten our little conversation in Madam Malkin's?"

Draco's sneer vanished, to be replaced by one of curiosity. "I never did fully understand what you meant. Oh, and this is Crabbe and Goyle." He indicated the two lumps beside him.

"Nice to meet you," said Hermione timidly. The two rocks grunted in reply.

"Have a seat, Draco," said Chris, patting the seat next to him. "Your two friends can join us if they want."

Draco took the proffered seat, but Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other, then left, letting the door slide shut behind them.

"Reckon not," said Chris dryly. "Ok, Draco, since you're so much on your high-horse about purebloods being better than Muggle-borns, tell me exactly why."

"Because our blood is totally magical. They" – he jerked his head at Hermione – "only get magic accidentally. And everyone knows Muggles are like animals anyway, breeding like crazy, with no forethought about their impact on the world."

Hermione looked like she was about to cry, but calmed down at a gentle touch from Neville.

"No, Draco, if anything, purity of blood dilutes magic even more," said Chris calmly. He took a piece of paper out of one of his notebooks and laid it on the floor. "There's a charm to levitate things. It's called _Wingardium Leviosa_. Try lifting the piece of paper, Draco."

Draco took out his wand with a smug expression and chanted, "_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_!"

The paper rose about an inch, then fell back down.

"Hermione, you try."

Hermione took out her wand and did the incantation. "_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_!"

The paper rose high in the air, brushing the ceiling of the compartment.

"Lucky break," said Draco, stowing his wand again.

"Actually, it's not," said Chris. "Your family stuck to marrying their own cousins so much that the magic is becoming stale. When a Squib, the opposite of a Muggle-born, is produced, it's like the magic suddenly became so diluted that it just couldn't sustain itself anymore, thus canceling out."

He could tell Draco still wasn't getting it. He tried an analogy.

"Have you ever been drinking something and realized that the ice has melted and the drink no longer tastes good?"

"Yes," said Draco cautiously. "But what do drinks have to do with magic?"

"Actually, it's the ice in the drink. The more ice you put in, the more that melts, the sooner the drink tastes bad. If you had only put in one piece of ice at a time, then the drink would've stayed good-tasting and not gone bad." Chris leaned back. "In fact, I'd be willing to theorize that Muggle-borns actually aren't Muggle-borns at all, but Squib-borns because they used to belong to a pureblood line that began producing Squibs about a hundred years ago or so. The magic has recovered enough and begins to show itself again, this time in a brand-new line."

Draco leaned back too as he processed this information.

"Plus," added Chris, as icing on the cake, "why is there prejudice against anyone who can use magic anyway? If anything, they've been granted a gift and shouldn't be shunned, but accepted. The Wizarding World should rejoice, because that's one more person the Muggles don't have. The more Muggle-borns that pop up, the less Muggles there are."

Even Neville was finding this information interesting. Hermione was taking it all in with wide eyes.

"In conclusion," stated Chris, "I believe that the way the purebloods are going now, they will be extinct within three generations maximum if they don't start marrying outside their circles, because then the magic will sour and Squibs will start cropping up. By marrying Muggle-borns and half-bloods, the bloodlines can be refreshed and continue to live on for many more centuries. If not" – he shrugged – "well, then the meek shall inherit the Earth. Or, at least, the Wizarding part."

There was silence in the compartment. Chris thought he had managed to impress all three with this argument. He smiled when Draco extended a hand to Hermione.

"Sorry about my behavior. Forgiven?" he asked.

She smiled and took it. "Definitely."

"Very well, let's start over, shall we? Everybody, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, and I'm Chris Evans. Everything cool?"

There were murmurs of agreement from the other three. Chris rubbed his hands in anticipation.

"Great, now, where's the candy trolley?"

The rest of the train ride went on as normal, except when Neville's toad, Trevor, tried to escape. After taking a quick look at the toad, Chris pronounced it as a female ready to seek out a mate and lay her eggs. Neville would have to get a male toad for her as soon as possible to keep both of them together.

At one point in the ride, though, the subject of Harry Potter was brought up, by Hermione surprisingly enough.

"He's supposed to be in our year, but I haven't heard anything about him coming to Hogwarts."

Chris stifled a smile. "Well, maybe he didn't get the letter. I heard he was sent to live with Muggles. He might have decided he preferred a Muggle life."

Draco interjected, "I heard Dumbledore tried to deliver a letter to his house and the owl came back looking like it had passed through a lightning storm. Then he tried to deliver it himself and found out that the family was on vacation and left a letter there for them."

Inside, Chris was laughing. What would be the expression on Dumbledore's face when he realized that Harry Potter would not be attending Hogwarts?

As they pulled up to the station, they pulled on their robes. While the others wrestled with their trunks, Chris, having thought ahead, pulled a robe out of his pocket that could fit on a doll and cancelled the shrinking spell with a tap of his wand. He pulled them on about the same time the train stopped.

The four of them jumped out and headed for a voice which was shouting "Firs-years! Firs'-years over here!"

They followed the source of the sound to a man who looked about half-giant, swinging a lantern. Rose had told him his name was Rubeus Hagrid, a friendly fellow, but who worshiped the very ground Dumbledore walked on. The smile on Hagrid's face dropped as the giant scanned the crowd and didn't find who he was looking for, Chris reckoned, but he soon recovered his energy.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs'-years? Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Chris thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much, most of them too terrified to utter even a squeak.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!" as some forgot their fears.

The narrow path had opened suddenly on to the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Chris and Draco were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles. Draco hesitated for a split second, then held his hand out so that Hermione could grab it and pull herself out without tripping. She did so and thanked him shyly.

Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last on to smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door

"Everyone here? Good."

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

* * *

Yes, I know, very canon, yet very different right now. The differences will become even more acute in the next chapter.

Another question I foresee: Why did Draco acquiesce to Chris's explanation so easily? Children are easily malleable. From the time they are Sorted until they die (and sometimes afterward), they are remembered only and shaped by the expectations of their Houses. It's a pretty impressionable time of their lives. Draco simply saw the holes in his beliefs and put two and two together. Does that mean that everything will always turn up right? No, like Lily Evans and Severus Snape before them, Draco may slip up once in a while and revert back to his arrogant, pure-blood self.

To my reviewers. I am amazed by the amount of positive feedback I'm getting. The negative is good too, so long as it's constructive, not just ranting or flaming for the sadistic fun of it.

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, and Frosted Midnight.

Next update will be this weekend, where will we see our firsties Sorted. It's a rather long chapter, so brace yourselves. Have fun guessing which House they'll go in. For more discussion, I have a forum open as well.

So, be good readers and press the green button to review. (Puppy eyes) _Pleeease_?


	4. Chapter 4

I do apologize for the slight lateness of this chapter. One of my professors, did, as a matter of fact, give a whole lot of homework that took two days to complete. I can only hope that he doesn't do this every time, else I might have to go to weekly updates.

The important Sorting is this chapter. Here we find out what House our intrepid friends will go into. The chapter's rather long, as I have Sorted everyone individually, instead of just listing off the names as they come up. The proportion of boys and girls has been distributed as evenly as possible. Oh, and here, Blaise Zabini is a girl. Blaise just sounds like a girl's name to me. If you want a separate PM or e-mail with everyone's Houses so you can keep up, let me know. I had to write them out like that myself.

Anything else? No? Then, here we go again!

* * *

Chapter IV: The Sorting

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Chris's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of Chris's house in it and had room left over. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Chris could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously. Beside Chris, Hermione stared wide-eyed at the other students.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term-banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on a red-headed boy's dirt-smudged nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

As she left, Chris glanced at the other first-years. They were scared, whispering to each other. Hermione was talking with Draco, who was just as clueless about the Sorting as she was. Apparently, it was a tradition not to tell children how they would be sorted.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall came back for them.

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Chris got into line behind Draco and Hermione, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Chris had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place, even with all the times he had read and reread _Hogwarts: A History_. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Chris looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper to Draco, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts: A History_."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open up to the heavens.

Chris quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. His mother wouldn't have allowed in the house. She barely allowed the neighbor's dog coming over when Chris wanted to play with him.

A rip in the brim suddenly opened and the Hat began to sing.

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

(©JK Rowling, _Harry Potter & The Sorcerer's Stone_)

There was applause and Chris saw Hermione sag slightly. He couldn't blame her. She had heard one of the boys talking about wrestling a troll. Professor McGonagall unrolled a long roll of parchment and began calling names.

"Abbott, Hannah."

A girl stumbled to the stool and sat down. A minute later –

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Corner, Michael."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Crabbe, Vincent."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Evans, Christopher."

Chris's heart skipped a beat. He slowly walked toward the stool and sat down. The last thing Chris saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people staring at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. But what's this? You're not really Chris Evans, are you? Clever one, aren't you…Harry Potter?"

His insides froze. But the Sorting Hat simply chuckled.

"Not to worry, not to worry, your secrets are safe with me. Not even the Headmaster can force me to reveal what I see during the Sorting. But let's see. Gryffindor runs in your blood, but this deception is worthy of any Slytherin."

Chris gripped the edges of the stool and thought, _Not_ _Slytherin_, _not_ _Slytherin_. He had no desire to join the House of Snakes, no matter how reassuring his mother's words had been.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Are you sure? Yes? Very well. But if I put you in Gryffindor, those talents would go to waste. Therefore, the only House that really fits your personality so well is RAVENCLAW!"

Chris breathed out a sign of relief at the last word. He hopped down and sat down at the Ravenclaw table, and turned his attention toward the rest of the Sorting, some of which were Sorted instantly, others taking a few minutes.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Greengrass, Daphne."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Goldstein, Anthony."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Goyle, Gregory."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione practically ran to the stool and put it on. Almost instantly, the Hat shouted–

"RAVENCLAW!"

Hermione jumped off with glee and ran to sit next to Chris.

"Longbottom, Neville."

The Sorting Hat took a few minutes to decide with him. Finally, it settled on–

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Neville jumped off the stool and yanked the Hat off his head. He gave Chris and Hermione a morose look before settling at the Gryffindor table beside the other new first-years.

"MacDougal, Morag."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Macmillan, Ernie."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Malfoy, Draco."

Chris caught Draco's eye and smiled. The nervous boy settled on the stool. The Hat, which had looked about to shout the House immediately, looked surprised before announcing–

"RAVENCLAW!"

There was a stunned silence, then Chris began clapping. Hermione joined in and then the rest of the table followed. Draco slid off the stool and made his way to sit next to Chris. Over at the Slytherin table, Crabbe and Goyle were shaking their heads in confusion. Then again, they always looked like the most basic things like air puzzled them.

"Moon, Li."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Nott, Theodore."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Parkinson, Pansy."

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Patil, Padme."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Patil, Parvati."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Perks, Sally-Anne."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally, the moment Chris had been looking forward to came.

"Potter, Harry."

Whispers broke out over the halls. But Harry Potter did not step up to the stool. McGonagall looked rattled for a second before clearing her throat and saying "Potter, Harry" again. Chris's eyes flickered toward the High Table.

Dumbledore looked beyond mad. Severus Snape, who Chris recognized from a picture Rose had shown him, simply looked amused. Other teachers were looking at each other, their expressions ranging from surprise to confusion to downright anger. He looked at the Sorting Hat, which seemed to wink at him.

McGonagall glanced nervously at Dumbledore, who jerked his hand to tell her to continue with the Sorting. The man looked every day of his century-plus years.

"Smith, Constance."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Thomas, Dean."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Turpin, Lisa."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Weasley, Ron."

The red-headed boy that Chris had seen at the station walked stiffly to the stool. The Sorting Hat frowned as he sat on the stool. It was a few minutes before the Hat pronounced him a–

"SLYTHERIN!"

A ringing silence fell over the Gryffindor Table. Two identical red-headed boys looked at each other in shock as Ron Weasley stumbled over to the Slytherin table, his face matching his hair.

Finally, the Sorting concluded with "Zabini, Blaise," being Sorted into Slytherin as well. As she haughtily sat at the Slytherin table, Chris noted that there were no other students in waiting in line.

Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll and took the Hat and the stool away, as if desperate to escape the Headmaster's scorching gaze. Indeed, it was a few minutes before Dumbledore calmed down long enough to stand and address the student body.

"There is a time for talk and a time for food. This is the latter. Enjoy!"

The feast appeared and the students dug in. In between stuffing their face, the new first years talked about their families.

"My grandparents immigrated here from China a few years before the Great Leap Forward," said Li Moon, a small Asian girl. "Both sets. It was a big surprise when my parents found out that their children were magical, but they accepted it."

"My family moved from India a long time ago," said Padma. "The caste system kept them from learning magic, as we were a lower caste. I can't believe my sister was Sorted into Gryffindor." She shook her head in amazement.

"What about you, Chris?" asked Terry Boot.

"My dad died a long time ago, but I've still got me mum," said Chris.

"What's with the accent?" asked Lisa Turpin, a girl with a slightly Northern American accent.

"I'm Welsh," said Chris proudly. "Live in Cardiff."

"Wow! I lived in America for a few years, but I've never visited Cardiff." Lisa turned her attention to Hermione and Draco. "How about you two?"

Draco made a face. "Pureblood, always been in England, nothing much."

Hermione smiled. "Muggle-born, parents are dentists."

Lisa stared at the two. "A Pureblood and a Muggle-born sitting together without the aid of Sticking Charms. Hold the presses, hell's frozen over!"

Draco and Padma stared blankly at her, while Hermione, Chris, and Terry laughed. Li shook her head and continued to eat.

"What about you, Mandy?" asked Hermione kindly.

"Half-blood, technically," Mandy said with a grimace.

"Technically?"

"I'm what you would call a last gasp of the last Wizarding War. Death Eaters would break into Muggle homes, rape the women and kill them when they were done. What they didn't count on was that my dad kept a pistol in his bedside drawer. The Death Eater made the mistake of only tying Dad up and not stunning him, so while the Death Eater was having his way with Mum, Dad managed to get to the drawer, yank it out, and shoot the man in the back of the head. Killed him dead. Mum delivered me less than nine months later."

"Did you ever find out who he was?" asked Hermione in a hush.

Mandy snorted. "Yeah. Turned out he was some low ranking Death Eater, but he was a pure-blood and the last of his line. So, everything from his estate is to be turned over to me when I reach Wizarding age. Until then, my mom holds it in trust."

"What about your dad?"

"Well, when he found out that not only was I magical, but the offspring of that rapist, he took it better than expected." She shrugged. "I dunno, parents are weird that way, I reckon."

Chris didn't even bother to ask Michael or Anthony any questions. The two boys had settled down at another part of the table instead of the front where, traditionally, the first-years sat.

The main course vanished, to be replaced with desserts. The first-years chatted away, alternating between talking and stuffing their faces. At the end, when they all felt full to bursting, Dumbledore stood up. He had calmed down, and his eyes were twinkling again.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who were still staring at their younger brother in shock; Ron, in turn, glared back.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."

Chris laughed, but he was one of the few who did. His mother had also told him that under no circumstances was he to disobey school rules. But she had been smiling when she said that too. Mandy was right; parents _were_ confusing.

Dumbledore clapped and said, "Sweet dreams tonight, children."

The benches scraped back as the students stood up. The first-years stood still while the Ravenclaw Prefects rushed over to escort them. The girl Prefect was Penelope Clearwater; the boy, Adam Dawson.

Adam shouted, "Come on, you lot! Follow me!"

The ten new first years followed Adam, while Penelope brought up the rear. They marched up flights of stairs, went through a wall that was just pretending to be a wall, and finally stopped at a door with no handle and no keyhole; nothing but a plain expanse of aged wood and a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. Adam stopped and faced the children.

"When you knock on the door, the eagle will ask you a question. In order to enter, you must either answer its riddle or wait until somebody who comes along can. The riddles change, but occasionally one will be repeated."

He turned back around, reached out and knocked once. At once, the eagle's beak opened and Chris was strangely reminded of the Sorting Hat.

"What is the debt that all men pay?" it asked in a soft musical voice.

"Death," answered Adam.

"Quite right."

The door swung open to reveal a wide, circular room. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue-and-bronze silks. If Chris squinted, he could see the shadows of mountains to the west. He looked up. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw Tower," said Adam. "For the next seven years, this will be your home away from home. As you may have noticed in the corner, the statue is of our House Founder Rowena Ravenclaw. On her head is her diadem, which has been missing since her time. Its inscription, '_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_,' is our motto. Should you require assistance, Prefect Clearwater and I are glad to help.

"Boys' dormitories are up the left branch of stairs, girls' on the right. You will find seven doors, each of which are inscribed with your year. Whichever bed you choose will be yours for the rest of your Hogwarts life."

"Breakfast starts at six, so any early risers can beat the rush," said Penelope. "Also on the table here is a map of Hogwarts. Grab one and do not lose it! Off to bed now!"

The first-years split into their two groups and, after grabbing said maps, went up the stairs. When Chris entered the first-year room, he saw five four-posters hung with deep blue velvet curtains arranged in a star shaped pattern. He chose the one on the right closest to the door. Draco settled next to him. Anthony and Michael took the two opposite beds, leaving Terry at the farthest. As soon as the boys claimed their beds, their trunks and things appeared at the foot, courtesy of the house-elves.

With a grin, Chris rolled over on his bed and fell asleep instantly.

* * *

Yes, I kept the canon Ravenclaw tower, though I came real close to make it a password system like the others. Care to guess where the riddle came from? I'm going to have to find a book of riddles to use just for this purpose. FYI, I don't know much info on Mandy, but since this is an AU story, does it really count? Though I would like to know her canon story if somebody knows where to find it.

(_Snickers_) I put Ronnikins in Slytherin. Makes sense though, for the following canon reasons: He's good at chess, which requires cunning and planning, traits of Slytherin himself; he frequently turned his back on Harry over jealousy issues; and he is insensitive and a jerk toward Hermione. My opinion? He had to _beg_ the Hat to put him in Gryffindor. Here, no Harry, ergo, no Gryffindor.

Another question I expect to be asked: Why didn't you put Neville in Ravenclaw with the other three? Bless him, he's loyal and brave when he is encouraged, which is why the Hat put him in Gryffindor both times, but he just doesn't have the brains to be a Ravenclaw. I go with the belief that something happened when his parents were tortured, he saw it and either a LeStrange or Crouch Jr. (or perhaps even Snape, which is why he fears him so much) badly performed a Memory Charm on him to keep him from remembering them and it backfired and is the reason why his short-term memory is next to nothing. This way, Chris has a conduit to Gryffindor, though he himself isn't in the House. With Draco, he has a conduit to Slytherin, though he isn't actually in the House, but knows people in there that could make good connections. I'm working on the Hufflepuff conduit.

To my loads of reviewers. I am amazed that this story has garnered so much attention. Here's hoping they don't go to my head!

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, Frosted Midnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, and mrmistoffelees.

If I have repeated or forgotten any, let me know and I will make sure I put you in the next reviewer box. It's getting quite big now.

Next update should be sometime this week. Next chapter isn't so big, but sets the stage for a positive relationship between Chris and Snape. Also, not every chapter is going to be as huge as this one. I believe in quality over quantity. That is, it's better to have a short, well-written chapter than a long, rambling, boring chapter.

So, review time! (_Uses Puss-in-Boots eyes this time_) _Por_ _Favor_?


	5. Chapter 5

(_Scene shows stacks of paper, some organized, some strewn about; authoress pops head out of random stack_) Oh, you're back? Just in time too. This chapter isn't hot off the presses, but it is still warm. Enjoy with a nice banana. Bananas are good for you, you know, excellent source of potassium. (_Disappears again_)

* * *

Chapter V: Upset Balances

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was madder than he had ever been before in his 150 years on planet Earth. The boy was supposed to have been at his relatives' house, getting beaten up, trampled down, and overall lacking self-esteem so that as soon as he arrived at Hogwarts he would latch onto the first person to show him a bit of attention. That was to have been Hagrid, who would have in turn boasted quite highly of Dumbledore, thus sealing Harry's loyalty to him.

But noooo…the boy just had to up and disappear. Not so much as a note saying "stick your wand where the sun don't shine."

He was so mad he slammed his fists on his desks, making everything jump a few inches.

It wasn't until he noticed a sliver of metal from one of his gadgets covered in his blood did he realize that he had slammed his left hand directly onto the not-so-decorative-now silver spike atop it now broken off and embedded in his hand.

Cursing, he cradled his bleeding hand and made straight for the Hospital Wing. Of all the days for Fawkes to go hunting…

* * *

For the next two days, Chris found out the best routes to and from classes before they started on Monday. There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked them politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other and Chris was sure the coats of armor could walk. Either that or the infamous Weasley twins were up to no good.

He also learned not to go up or down the staircase connecting the fifth and sixth floors from two until four, as it was changing back and forth every few minutes during that time period. He learned that behind the tapestry of a blonde man in a pale suit, with a stick of celery on the lapel, playing cricket, was a shortcut leading from the wall opposite the Tower's floor entrance to the floor three levels below via a tube. It only went down, but was great when he found himself running late and the class happened to be on that floor. All thanks to that little map.

Breakfast was a boisterous event, with first-years receiving letters on their House congratulations. Chris had sent his mother a letter telling him which House he had been Sorted into and that Harry Potter had failed to show and she had responded with congratulations and to watch his back.

"More of me front I'm worried about," he muttered under his breath after reading that bit.

Over at the Slytherin table, a shout was heard as a weathered bird crashed into the scrambled eggs, making quite a mess. The bird itself, as soon as it dropped the red envelope in its beak, took off. With a grin, Chris noticed that it was for none other than Ron Weasley.

"Hermione," he said, getting her attention. "Look."

It was then that the letter exploded.

"_RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU GET INTO SLYTHERIN! WEASLEYS DO NOT GO IN SLYTHERIN! YOU MARCH YOURSELF STRAIGHT UP TO THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE AND DEMAND A RESORTING STRAIGHT AWAY!"_

The ringing silence was broken by students laughing a little and returning to their conversations once their hearing returned. The Howler, which Chris remembered now because he had seen his mother send one once and gotten one back in kind, tore itself up and burned away to ashes. Weasley grabbed his schoolbag and marched out, his nose in the air. His twin brothers snickered and the one that was a prefect simply ignored all three as if they didn't exist. Clearly, House separation was not something common with that family.

"Well," said Draco. "I reckon his mum wasn't happy."

Chris chuckled. "Too true. He's gonna look like a Christmas tree for the next seven years."

Hermione tutted. "I don't know much about fashion, but red-and-green year 'round is definitely _not_ in."

Professor Flitwick came by minutes later with their schedules and the talking ceased as they glanced over their schedules and realized Charms started in ten minutes and they needed to get moving if they didn't want to lose points their first day.

* * *

Potions lesson on Wednesday morning nearly drove Chris nuts waiting for it. Ravenclaw was paired up with Hufflepuff for these lessons. When he arrived that afternoon for class, he was pleasantly surprised to find a few others milling about, all in yellow and black robes. One of the 'Puffs introduced himself to Chris.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said, shaking hands.

"Chris Evans. Who's the professor for this class?"

"Severus Snape. He's Head of Slytherin House too. Just don't get on his bad side."

"Does he even have a good side to start with?" muttered Chris as the rest of the class joined them.

Justin shrugged. "No idea."

At that moment, the door unlocked and the class poured in. Unsure what to do, they gingerly settled in the rows and waited.

No sooner had the last person sat down than Snape breezed into the room. He scanned it, looking at every face. Chris felt a tickle in the back of his mind when Snape looked at him and dropped his quill to break eye contact and get it. He sat up quickly.

"You are here to learn the subtle science, and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word. Snape obviously had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even put a stopper in death."

His dark eyes flickered again over the silent class and alighted on Chris.

"Evans!" he barked out.

"Yes, sir?"

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Chris thought quickly. His mother had just quizzed him on this the other day…

"Draught of Living Death, sir?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Telling you, sir."

For the barest moment, Chris thought he saw Snape smile a little. Then he turned on another student.

"Bones! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Stomach of a goat, sir."

Snape nodded approvingly. "Good. Five points each to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The Potion we will be working on today is a simple one to cure boils. Instructions" – he flicked his wand – "are on the board. Partner up and begin work."

Chris immediately scooted over to Draco, while the others paired off.

"You weigh the nettles, I'll crush the snake fangs, okay?" muttered Chris.

"Okay."

By the time the class was half over, Chris and Draco had a nearly perfect potion.

"What do you think?" asked Chris, pondering why it hadn't turned red, but a light shade of pink.

"My guess? Too many horned slugs."

Chris thought about it. Slugs were neutralized by salt. So, if there was any salt in his kit, it should lessen the slug's influence on the potion. He found the little white bottle and put a pinch in. Immediately, it turned rosy red. Snape chose that moment to come over and raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"A perfect potion," he said, making all the others jump in surprise. Snape left and returned with a rack of vials. "Put the potions in these. Full marks. And ten points for Ravenclaw."

Chris and Draco stared at each other in shock for a second before beginning to carefully ladle the potion into the vials. With their small cauldrons, they filled up twenty vials in no time.

As the bell rang, Snape called out, "Mr. Evans, Mr. Malfoy, please stay behind."

As the others bustled out, they walked carefully up to the teacher's desk.

"Relax, I am not going to punish you," said Snape. His tone was casual, as opposed to the stiffness of the beginning of class. "I have just never seen anyone make a perfect potion in their first lesson and wished to know how you did it."

"It was Chris that knew, sir," said Draco. "Not me."

"Evans?"

"Yes, sir. Salt, it destroys slugs. I guessed that a pinch of salt would take care of the extra slug bits. It worked."

"A risky gambit. Well done. An additional five points to Ravenclaw. Dismissed."

The two boys scrambled out. Once they were out of hearing range, Draco started talking.

"What was that all about? That's not like him."

"I don't know. And what do you mean, 'not like him'? You know Professor Snape from somewhere else?"

"Yeah, he's my godfather," admitted Draco. "He was the one who told my father that I had made Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin."

"What'd your dad say about that?"

Draco snorted. "Just not to get into too much trouble in the Restricted Section of the library. Madam Pince is like a mother dragon with her books, apparently."

Chris grinned. "Well, then don't get caught doing anything that could be seen as trouble."

"Ah. How perfectly Slytherin of you."

Chris simply shrugged.

* * *

Next class was Transfiguration, where they learned to change matchsticks into needles. They had this lesson with the Slytherins, unfortunately. Hermione was the first to change hers, while Weasley looked on in disgust, still wearing Slytherin robes. It appeared that the red-head had made quick friends of Greengrass and Zabini. The girls looked on in awe as he changed his needle with a flourish five minutes later.

Chris shook his head and continued to work with his matchstick. It just wouldn't change. Finally, he practically shouted the incantation and jabbed the matchstick with his wand as hard as he could. It instantly turned into a huge knitting needle.

"Well, I didn't mean to do _that_," he said, staring at the huge needle. He poked it with his wand again, and muttered the counterspell. The needle instantly changed into an oversized matchstick. A quick Shrinking Spell, mimicking the spell as he had seen his mother do it once when they went on vacation when he was little, put it at the correct size. He tried again and this time, the transfiguration worked perfectly.

The class ended with five more points awarded to Ravenclaw and five deducted from Slytherin when Weasley sneered that the only reason they got the points was that McGonagall was prejudiced toward Muggle-borns. "Mudbloods" was his exact word.

Chris left for lunch feeling giddy. Ravenclaw had earned twenty-five points in just a few hours. Of course, a hex sent in the melee of the dismissed students that just so happened to hit Weasley and just so happened to glue his lips together helped too.

That afternoon was Double History of Magic. He slept through that, but left his pen, charmed by his mother to copy down everything Binns said and _only_ Binns, on his desk. At the end of class, he was glad to see that the pen had copied everything down in his handwriting. Hermione wasn't happy, having been the only one to stay awake, but even she missed some of the notes and didn't complain when Chris let her borrow them.

Before Chris went to bed that night, he caught sight of a leftover _Daily_ _Prophet_. The headline made him smile.

_**BOY-WHO-LIVED MISSING!**_

_This year, Harry Potter was due to start at Hogwarts. According to an inside source, when his name was called, the child did not step forward. Moreover, when the Sorting was finished, no Harry Potter was to be seen._

_An investigation has revealed nothing. A brief conversation shortly after the fall of You-Know-Who with Albus Dumbledore revealed that Harry Potter had been placed into a safe environment. But this reporter wonders if it really was safe, as the Boy-Who-Lived has become the Boy-Who-Vanished._

_Harry Potter, if you are reading this, please know the Wizarding World is concerned and wishing your safe return._

He chuckled and turned to another page. A small piece, more like a general announcement, actually, caught his attention.

_**GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**__  
Investigations continue into the break-in at  
Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the  
work of dark wizards or witches unknown.  
Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing  
had been taken. The vault that was searched had in  
fact been emptied the same day.  
"But we're not telling what was in there, so  
keep your noses out if you know what's good  
for you," said a Gringotts spokes-goblin this afternoon._

Chris frowned. What could've been so important that the person would risk trying to steal it from Gringotts? He folded the paper up and took it with him to bed.

* * *

Question time! I actually like this part. Lets me clear the air on topics.

About the vault: Dumbledore waited as long as he could before sending Hagrid after the Stone. Just in time, too, as the article pointed out.

About Chris's magic: He put quite a bit of power into that transfiguration because he was frustrated and he still hasn't quite got the hang of his magic, so there is still some accidental magic at this age. No, this won't be a super!Harry fic, but he won't be as magically retarded (check the dictionary for the official definition of retarded if you think I'm being derogatory) as he was in canon. And Ron wasn't any help.

About the scar and Lily's protection: No, Chris does not have a Vold-e-radar anymore, so he will not react to the presence of the Dark Ghost in Quirrell's head. Is Lily's protection still there after so many years of not being near Petunia? We'll have to see.

Is Rose really Bellatrix LeStrange? _NO_!!! Is she a Death Eater? Well, it certainly looked like in the first chapter, didn't it? Looks can be deceiving.

To my lovely reviewers. Lightning-bolt shaped cookies for all!

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, Frosted Midnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, mrmistoffelees, MagZ86, athenakitty, njferrell, Phankam, thyrokio, McFressie, madeye harry, pottersparky, AnnF, Treck, and graynavarre.

As my professor seems to delight in giving loads of homework, I may be forced to back down to one chapter a week to keep up with the amount. Also, I'm trying to clean out my hard drive of random one-shots, write or polish them, and post them so I can delete the huge amount off my hard drive and save them in a smaller format. The one-shot loaded up with this chapter was a _Doctor_ _Who_ oneshot entitled _Destroyer_ _of_ _Worlds_. If you are a _DW_ fan, you understand this phrase.

I will try to get the next chapter up sometime next week, probably about Tuesday or Wednesday. I'll get back to y'all on update times. Discussion questions can be expounded on at my forum. If we really get this story going, perhaps a Yahoo! Group would be in order. Thoughts?

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

I do apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I have finished my Calculus quiz and now must focus on my Logic quizzes and try to catch up with my Calculus Homework, of which I am now two sections behind. At least the Logic quizzes will be taken in class and will only be a few questions each.

But enough of my real life troubles. You're here for the next chapter and I shall do my best to oblige. It actually grew to a decent size, so I hope this can tide y'all over until I can update again. If what I think will happen, does happen, we'll have to go to once a week updates anyway as the published chapters catch up with what's written. I have several future chapters in my head; they're just taking their sweet time coming out of my fingers. And boy are they gonna be good.

* * *

Chapter VI: Trolls, Cerberus and Quidditch, Oh, My

Time passed quickly at Hogwarts and soon it was time for Halloween. Chris really didn't feel like celebrating the day his real parents had died, but kept up a happy front anyway. Rose had warned him that anyone who saw him fly would know instinctively that only Potters flew in a particular manner that would easily be recognized and might blow his cover. Perhaps next year, she had said. Agreeing to his mother's promise and trusting her judgment, when the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had had broom lessons earlier in the month, he had barely put any energy into the command for the broom to go to his hand.

He had shown Draco and Hermione the small piece in the paper and they had agreed that whatever it was must have been top-secret and very powerful to risk a robbery. Now they just had to figure out what "it" was.

At the end of classes on Halloween, they walked into the Great Hall to see a thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles and pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Chris was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped in a high voice. "Troll – in the dungeons." There was a pause for dramatic effect. "Thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint, taking the bowl of mashed potatoes with him so that it upended on his head.

There was dead silence, then a sudden uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Immediately, the students began to scramble into lines. Chris glanced back just in time to see Professor Snape disappear from the High Table, away from the evacuation.

"Shouldn't Professor Snape be supervising the Slytherins?" he muttered to Draco. "After all, their dorms _are_ in the dungeons."

"You'd think so," said Draco, frowning in confusion. "But he's probably gone ahead of them to deal with the troll. I wouldn't worry."

"Still…" muttered Hermione, but she didn't say another word.

They followed the prefects to Ravenclaw Tower. There, they waited for Professor Flitwick, who came in about fifteen minutes later.

"The troll is being removed from the castle as we speak by members of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," he squeaked. "It took five simultaneous stunners to bring it down. It will be released back into a troll preserve, and a Tracking Charm placed on it to prevent something like this from ever happening again."

"But sir," said Chris, raising his hand to get Flitwick's attention. "Why was the troll in the castle in the first place?"

"We are attempting to find that out now. The troll's mind did not reveal any reason why it would choose to attack the castle. Good night."

The diminutive Professor left and babbling broke out over the Tower as people discussed what had happened.

"So, let's see, we have a troll on the loose, an almost stolen something, and the third-floor corridor is off limits to those who don't wish to die a painful death," said Chris. "They're all connected, I'm sure of it. So what's the focal point? What's tying all these things together?"

"I don't know," admitted Draco. Hermione, too, shook her head.

A few days later, they would find out.

* * *

With the onset of November, the weather turned chillier. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaver-skin boots.

Quidditch season was upon them and though Chris wasn't playing, he still looked forward to going to the upcoming game. He couldn't help it; Quidditch was literally in his blood, something only he and his mother knew.

For the past few months, he had not thought much about Harry Potter for more than a few minutes. It had taken a while to set into his mind, but to tell the truth, he didn't care that much. He had a home, a mother, and friends. Sometimes it hurt not being able to tell Hermione and Draco his secret. If he were to reveal himself and someone overheard, he could possibly lose his two best friends to someone who wanted Voldemort back. Plus, he'd be deluged with people as high as the Minister of Magic himself demanded to know where he'd been and who he'd been with this whole time.

Sometimes he regretted Rose telling him the "family secret," as he had dubbed it. Then he realized that Rose had entrusted him with a very important secret, one that could have devastating impact not only on their lives, but on the entire Wizarding World _and_ the Muggle world. Rose would instantly become a target bigger than himself, as both good and bad people tried to separate the two and return him to the Dursleys while putting his mom in Azkaban for kidnapping the Boy-Who-Lived. Dumbledore, especially, would try this, of this he was sure.

And that wasn't a risk Chris was willing to take, just to ease his conscience.

So, for now, he put Harry Potter out of his mind.

* * *

One morning, a few days after Halloween, Chris and Draco were running late to Double Charms class. They turned one corner and then another.

"Where's your map?" yelled Chris.

"On my bed with my Potions homework! I thought you grabbed yours!"

"No, I put it with my Transfiguration book! I thought you said you had yours!"

"No, I was asking if you _had_ yours!"

"Aw, never mind, then!"

While they were shouting, they ran into a dusty corridor.

"Chris, where are we?" Draco asked as the corridor began to light up with motion-sensitive torches.

"I don't know. Hey, let's try that door." Chris indicated a heavy-looking door.

They ran over to it, but it was locked. Pointing their wands at it, they both said, "_Alohomora_!"

It opened and they ran in, only to slam on the brakes.

They weren't in a passageway, as they had thought. They were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now they knew why it was forbidden.

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog which filled the whole space between the ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs.

It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at them, and Chris knew the only reason they weren't already dead was that their sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.

"RUN!" shouted Chris. They bolted. Into the corridor, relocking the door just as the dog slammed into it, running over stairs and finally skidding into Charms class just as Flitwick was about to shut the door.

"Boys, why are you so late?" Flitwick asked, taking in their sweaty and flushed faces.

"Wrong turn," gasped Draco.

"Well, in, in, and we'll forgive the points this time. It was your first offence."

The boys didn't say anything, but sank into two empty chairs, their hearts thudding.

After the class had dismissed and Flitwick left, Hermione found them.

"Why were you two late? Really?"

"We took a wrong turn," said Chris.

"And ended up face to face with a Cerberus," added Draco.

"Yeah. What's a Cerberus?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Chris. It's a 3-headed dog that in Greek mythology guards the entrance to Hades or Hell."

"Ah, yeah, then it was one of those, definitely. I was mostly looking on what it was standing on."

"The floor?"

"No, a trap door."

Draco shook his head. "A giant three-headed dog and you're looking at its feet instead of its mouths. Honestly."

Hermione chewed her nails. "'A troll on the loose, an almost stolen something, and the third-floor corridor is off limits to those who don't wish to die a painful death'," she quoted from what they had discussed on Halloween. "And on that third-floor corridor is a Cerberus." She looked at them. "Maybe the thing that was almost stolen is being guarded by the dog in that corridor." She picked up her bag. "I'll be in the library, researching them. See you at lunch."

True to her word, Hermione showed up in the middle of lunch and plopped a heavy book on the table, which made the goblets rattle.

"Cerberus," she stated, "are used as guard dogs for valuable treasures. The breed itself is not magical, which is why it isn't in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Greek wizards specifically bred them without magical powers to avoid detection. As such, they became a part of Greek mythology. Furthermore, the breed is usually small, about the size of an English sheepdog. If it's the size you two say it is–"

"It is," muttered Draco.

"–then an Enlarging Charm must have been used on it to make it bigger."

They pondered for a while over their lunches before Chris broke the silence.

"C'mon, Potions next."

They scooped up their bags and headed for the dungeons. As usual, they slipped into the classroom first and sat down at their usual spot. With Draco paired with Chris, Hermione had found herself partnered with Li, who was content to silently pass Hermione the necessary ingredients.

As the boys worked, Chris couldn't help but notice that Snape was limping. He carefully nudged Draco, his eyes flickering from him to Snape's leg. Draco nodded to show he understood.

As soon as the bell rung, Draco and Chris worked their way to the front of the class and dropped off their sample vials at the teacher's desk, where Snape was sitting.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked Draco quietly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" he asked neutrally.

"Your leg, sir," Chris said, nodding at the appendage. "It's hurt."

Snape scowled. "It is none of your concern."

"But sir–"

"Out!"

The two boys scrambled to obey.

"Those are dog bites," said Chris as soon as they were out of Snape's earshot. "And the only other dog around here is Fang and from what I heard, that's dog's a wimp."

Draco nodded his agreement. "So it must have been the Cerberus. But is he after what the dog's protecting or did he accidentally get between who let the troll in and the dog?"

Chris shook his head. "I don't honestly know."

* * *

Most of the school had turned out for the Quidditch game the next Saturday. It was Gryffindor versus Slytherin and Chris was keen to see who Gryffindor had picked as the new Seeker. Charlie Weasley had graduated two years before and the Seeker last year had been a Seventh-year, according to Neville, their source inside Gryffindor.

Chris could see his breath as he, Hermione, and Draco made their way over to the stands. They sat in the Ravenclaw area near where the Ravenclaws and Slytherins mixed up, as Draco had resolutely refused to cheer for the Gryffindors. Neville was there too, an odd spot of red in the blue and green. As the game came into full swing, Chris wasn't sure who he was going to cheer for.

On the Gryffindor team, the Chasers were all girls: Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. The two Beaters were the infamous Weasley twins; the Keeper Oliver Wood, also Quidditch Captain.

The Seeker, however, was a slight fifth-year girl with caramel-colored skin and wild hair Chris did not recognize. He nudged Neville.

"Who's Gryffindor's Seeker?"

He glanced at the girl through his binoculars. "That's River Rhodes. She's quite good, though I don't know if she's as good as the second-eldest Weasley kid."

Draco snorted. "It helps that Wood _fancies_ her."

"I'm sure she's a very good Seeker," argued Hermione, her ears slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yeah, very good," he drawled.

Chris watched the game avidly as the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, took a bat from one of the Beaters and whacked a Bludger at Wood.

"Foul!" he cried with more than half the stadium, and the Gryffindor doing the commentary, Lee Jordan, also cried out.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and Katie Bell took the penalty shot and put it through without in any problems.

A flash of gold caught Chris's attention. The Snitch! It was right in front of him, hovering, then darted away toward the Gryffindor goalposts.

"There!" he shouted. River, who had been scanning for the Snitch not thirty feet away, heard Chris and followed his pointing finger. With an appreciative nod, she darted after the Snitch, while Draco gave him a sour look. The Slytherin Seeker, Terence Higgs, realizing what was going on, was behind her almost immediately. But River had a Nimbus 2000 and easily outstripped his earlier broom. With a triumphant yell, she held up the Snitch.

"And Gryffindor wins, 170 to 100," Lee Jordan yelled, darting out of the box to go congratulate the team. From their spot, Chris, Neville, Hermione, and Draco saw Oliver Wood land, then proceed to snog River Rhodes senseless. The Gryffindors were surprised at first, then started catcalling, mainly the Weasley twins.

"Told you," said Draco smugly.

"Oh, do shut it," said Hermione, but smiling.

Behind them, Neville and Chris exchanged a look, then grinned like idiots.

* * *

A few more questions:

_Who is River Rhodes?_ She's an OC I made up to play the Seeker position that Harry played in canon. Yes, I'm a _Doctor Who_ fan, so she looks like a 15-year-old version of River Song, a 4th new-series character played by Alex Kingston, who also played on _ER _for some number of years. Though I am a _Doctor Who_ fan, this will not be a _Doctor Who_ crossover, merely utilizing some British characters/actors that appeared in that show.

_Why won't the Marauder's Map show Chris Evans as Harry Potter? _The Marauder's Map doesn't lie, but it could omit certain truths. Chris was raised as Chris. The whole notion of being Harry Potter is new to him and I tried to put a moment in here where he thought about it. Until he accepts his birth identity, the Map will show him as he sees himself: Chris Evans, son of Rose Evans.

_Why didn't Hermione ask a ton of questions on the train with Chris's argument about Pure-bloods versus Muggle-borns? _Yes, I know I put quite a hole there that I hope in the next few chapters will sew it up better. Mostly, it was because she was in the presence of two of those purebloods and a half-blood. As an outsider, she latched onto the first people to show her friendship. I mean, canon-Hermione spending a whole day crying in the bathroom just because one person called her a know-it-all? Yeach. I'm trying to make this Hermione more brains, less emotions. Speaking of Hermione, this time, when she was called a Mudblood, Draco and Chris were there to back here up. Before, no backup. Therefore, no Hermione crying her eyes out in the bathroom.

I do enjoy these questions. They make me think harder about where I need to work on my stories.

To my reviewers and flamers alike. We have now crossed 100 reviews in just five chapters! It's enough to make me giddy with pure joy!

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, Frosted Midnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, mrmistoffelees, MagZ86, athenakitty, njferrell, Phankam, thyrokio, McFressie, madeye harry, pottersparky, AnnF, Treck, graynavarre, Raggedygal, pallaskitty, A (I meant knitting, but as I was doing crochet work at the time, it accidentally slipped in and wasn't corrected in the publishing stage), slmncpm, Paladin13, Elfwyn, Faded Feathers, RID3RLVR, Inumaru12, Lunchbox05, Worldmaker, kewr69, fraewyn, chibi kyuu-chan, Firehedgehog, and Guardian Dimension.

If I missed your name, doubled it, or otherwise improperly inserted it in the reviewer box, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Back to real life for me. Please review, as it makes the withdrawal worthwhile. And my lizard enjoys any flames thrown our way. Wish I could get a picture of him posted somewhere. Ah, well, just look up flat-tailed common house geckos and there he is.


	7. Chapter 7

(_Comes out of hiding with white flag_) Please don't thrown rotten fruit! I come bearing a chapter! More info at the bottom!

* * *

Chapter VII: I'll Be Home for Christmas

After much deliberation (and a letter to his mom asking permission), Chris had decided to ask Draco and Hermione if they wanted to spend Christmas Break at the school, or go home.

"I'm going home," said Hermione. "I can't wait to show them some magic!"

"You can't, Hermione," said Draco. "School age witches and wizards cannot use magic at home."

"Oh," said Hermione, crestfallen.

"Not at my place," said Chris casually. "We've got wards on the place so the Ministry can't detect mine or Mom's magic. As far as they're concerned, our home doesn't exist."

Hermione thought. "Perhaps we could bring my parents over for a magic show. If you don't mind," she hastily added.

"I don't mind at all. Maybe we could have a sleepover."

Draco snorted. "Aren't we a little old for that?"

"Maybe you, but I'm still eleven," said Chris. "And Hermione's actually the oldest of us."

"I think it's brilliant!" she said. Draco just threw his hands in the air.

"Well, that's decided, then. I'll send Mom a letter so she can get the guest room ready."

* * *

The day the Hogwarts Express left Hogwarts, a very excited trio of students was aboard, discussing what they planned on doing during break.

"When are you going to do your homework?" asked Hermione, ever concerned about schoolwork.

"Relax, Hermione," said Chris, laughing. "We'll have the whole break to do it. We can each set aside one hour per night to do it. Not during the sleepover, of course, but afterwards, except on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve and New Year's Day. Sound good?"

Hermione relaxed. "Yes, I suppose that'll do."

Glad to have evaded Hermione badgering them about doing their homework, Chris turned his attention to Draco. "What'd your dad say about this again?"

Draco shifted guiltily. "I didn't exactly tell him Hermione was going to be with us. He's under the impression it's just you and me, so when you see him, whatever you do, don't tell him. I'll floo to your place."

"Okay. Mom says she'll come pick you up, Hermione, since your fireplace isn't hooked up to the floo."

"How?"

"Probably a Portkey or we'll Apparate." At Hermione's confused expression, he elaborated. "A Portkey is an object designed to carry someone to their destination when Apparition is out of the question. Apparition is a form of magical teleportation. I've gone through Side-Along Apparition once or twice. It feels like you're being sucked up a rubber straw" – he shivered – "and then spat out the other end."

Hermione turned a rather delicate shade of green.

* * *

Standing on Platform 9¾, Rose peeked over the crowds of children disembarking the Hogwarts Express. Finally, she caught sight of a blonde, a brunette, and black hair with red highlights heading toward her.

"Mum!"

Chris flung himself at his mother, who chuckled. "Nice to see you too. The way you're acting, you haven't seen me in ages." She turned to the other two. "Hello, Draco, Hermione."

"Hello, Ms. Evans," said Hermione shyly.

"No, no, dear, just Rose. I'm way too young to be a '_Ms_.'"

"So, _Rose_," came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Lucius Malfoy. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Rose inclined her head graciously. "Same to you, sir."

"And this is your son, I take it?"

"Yes, this is Chris. I adopted him when he was a year old."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "How fortunate that your adopted child was also magical."

Rose shrugged. "Sometimes the universe works for you, sometimes against you. For me, it was the former."

"Come, Draco," he said to his son. "You may feel free to…chat…with your friend later."

And without ever acknowledging Hermione's presence, he turned around and began walking away. Draco sent an apologetic expression her way before following him off the platform to a designated Apparition point. Within a few seconds, the Malfoys were gone.

"Sometimes I forget how much of a stuck-up snob Lucius really is," Rose commented.

"You two have met?" asked Hermione.

"A long time ago. A _very_ long time ago." She gazed off for a few seconds before abruptly snapping back to the present. With a tap of her wand, Chris's luggage was shrunk and put in her pocket.

"Mom!" shouted Hermione, running to hug her parents. She resembled her father, but the bushy hair obviously came from her mother's side of the family.

"Hello, sweetheart," said Mrs. Granger. She reached out a hand, which Rose took. "Hi, I'm Carol Granger. This is my husband, Alan."

"Rose Evans. I'm Chris's mom."

"Ah, yes, Hermione's been sending us regular mail every week," said Alan, chuckling. He pointed to Hedwig, situated as usual on Harry's shoulder. "Quite a stir she caused, showing up at the dental office at lunchtime. Thankfully, only Carol, the secretary, and I were in at the time."

"What happened to the secretary?"

"At first, she decided she was hallucinating and went home. The next time it happened, she simply shook her head." Carol shrugged. "By now she doesn't even flinch."

"I'm glad she's been able to help," said Chris. Hedwig hooted in agreement, puffing herself up in pride. Chris chuckled.

"We'll see you in a week, then," said Carol, smiling.

Rose nodded. "See you then."

Hermione left with her parents, vanishing through the barrier that led back to the Muggle world, while Chris and Rose moved over to a designated Portkey zone. She took out a stuffed Snitch Chris had played with when he was smaller and a few seconds later, mother and son had vanished.

* * *

When they reappeared, Chris noted the smell of fresh paint in the air.

"Wow, Mom, looks like you did some redecorating," said Chris approvingly.

"Well, I had to do something to make the time fly by. Even painted the kitchen."

"That finally came up on your list, huh?"

"Yep!"

Chris chuckled and sat down on the sofa with Rose. "So, what've you being doing?"

"I've been working on setting a few things in motion that, come summer time, will have born fruit."

"What are they?"

She sighed. "Unfortunately, I can't tell you."

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Why are you telling me this, then? Is it illegal?"

"Borderline, which is why I'm trying to share as few details as possible with you, just in case something happens and I'm found out. I don't want you involved."

"Is this because–" He lowered his voice "–of me?"

"Yes. If I get found out, there's a big chance you'll be discovered too. And if that happens, I don't want the Ministry pumping you for information, which they _will_ do, without a single thought." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I wanted to forewarn you in case the worst case scenario came true and something _did_ happen. Please, just trust me."

"I trust _you_, Mum," he emphasized. "And Hermione and Draco."

She chuckled. "Nice one. Now, come along, let's get dinner ready."

* * *

A week was up before they knew it and the Evanses found themselves waiting at the Granger residence while Hermione picked up a few last minute things. She came back downstairs, a heavy bag on her shoulders.

"Here, let me," said Rose, taking the bag. She took an old sock from her purse and affixed it to the bag. Five seconds later, the bag disappeared from sight. "It's now at our house."

Hermione's eyes widened at the new magic displayed so casually. "Is that how we're getting to your place?"

"Yes. Tonight, you, Chris and Draco will have a sleepover, and tomorrow, your parents can come and watch a magic show. You can show them what you've learned so far without fear of the Ministry finding out about any underage magic."

"Brilliant!" breathed Alan. Rose could see where Hermione got her sense of wonder from.

"I will be taking us via this same Portkey tomorrow as well," said Rose, showing them the stuffed toy. They stared in wonder at the plush Snitch. "Now, children, please grab hold of one of the wings." They did as they were told. "Five…four…"

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad!"

"Three…two…"

"Bye, sweetheart, see you tomorrow!" said Carol.

"Have a good time!" added Alan.

"One…zero."

And with that, they disappeared.

* * *

When they reappeared, it was inside the Evans home. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the neatly organized, but lived in home. The TV in the corner was shaped oddly, but functioned despite the magic going on around her, including the dishes self-washing themselves and a Movement Detection Charm activating the fireplace, which crackled merrily. The Christmas tree also flickered on, its strings of lights flashing in tune as a wireless radio softly emitted Christmas music.

"Why don't you show Hermione the guest room?"

Chris nodded and practically ran upstairs, Hermione on his heels.

Rose sighed. She was so glad Chris had made friends. The years they had spent together had been quiet, even with her background activities and job down at the local bookstore.

There were just some things she was glad Chris wasn't aware of yet.

After all, innocence didn't last forever.

* * *

"And this is your room!" said Chris proudly, throwing the door open.

The walls were done in a very deep blue with silver swirls. The carpet was red with gold threaded throughout. The bed was just the right size for a twelve-year old girl and had unicorns roaming freely on the matching blue sheets. On the opposite wall was a bookshelf about five feet high and two feet wide, stacked with classic novels on all but one shelf in the middle, obviously for Hermione to put the books she had brought with her. A set of four beanbags lay in a corner, each a curious but tasteful mix of blue, red, green, and yellow. A desk was set up under the window, its wood deep oak, with a blue chair with the symbol of Ravenclaw on its back, soft and welcome-looking, neatly tucked under. Also laying on top of the desk were stacks of parchment and a few notebooks, a bunch of quills and pens and pencils, and a lamp that appeared to be sleeping. All in all, it was a perfect blend of magical and Muggle, just like Hermione.

"It's beautiful, Chris!" she breathed.

"Wow, Mom did a number in here!" he whistled.

"You didn't know?"

"When she asked me what your personality was, I described you. But she refused to let me see it when I got home."

Hermione grinned at him. "It's just right."

They heard the Floo downstairs activate and Draco's voice yell for them. They practically ran downstairs, their feet thundering.

"No running in the house!" yelled Rose.

They skidded to a stop right in front of Draco.

"Draco, come look at this!" said Hermione, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her room, leaving Chris with Rose. They looked at each other and grinned.

"So, what's for dinner?"

Chris's smile grew even wider. "Pizza!"

She chuckled and ruffled his hair. "All right. Where's the number for Jubilee Pizza?"

* * *

That night, the three children were discussing their family traditions for Christmas. Hermione had proceeded to tell them all about the Muggle Christmases they celebrated. Draco had been rather wowed by the simplicity.

"What about pureblood families?" she asked.

"Mother is preparing for the annual Yule Ball, and Father is occupied with the guest list."

"A ball?" asked Hermione curiously. "Is that popular in the Wizarding World?"

"It is if a pureblood is expected to maintain his social status," said Draco sourly. "All I ever do is sit at a table with the other pureblood children the whole time and doodle on the napkins."

"Really? What kind of drawings?" asked Chris.

Draco pulled a few sheets out of his pockets, gently folded, and handed them to the other children.

"That's a bit of Christmas for you, by the way."

They unfolded the sheets, which were revealed to be charcoal drawings of themselves. Hermione was reading a book in the library, while Chris was immersed in brewing a potion.

"Oh my…Draco, these are…wow…"

Draco's cheeks tinged a bit. "I started drawing when I was a kid, you know, the drawings kids always start out doing, but then I started to get a real knack for drawing faces. I've got a scrapbook I carry to school with me, so I can put the pictures in them. Plus, watch this." He withdrew his wand and tapped the pictures. Hermione's instantly moved to show her turning the page of the book and studying it, going to the end of the book, then restarting. Chris's showed the entire brewing process, which, now that he looked closer, was actually their first potion.

"There are spells that allow the drawings to behave like they were photos, moving, but not speaking. My mother taught me how to do that just last year. She loves them."

"What does your father think about these?" asked Hermione.

He shifted nervously. "Father found some of my pictures by accident when I was younger. He proceeded to burn them, saying the Malfoys only purchased art, and didn't waste time drawing it. Ever since then, I've kept the scrapbook hidden inside a different book. He would never think to look in a Defense Against the Dark Arts book for my art."

"What did you do to the actual book?" hissed Hermione.

Draco was taken aback, momentarily forgetting Hermione's love for all things printed and bound. "Relax, it was a book meant for holding secret things. It had a cavity just the right size for my scrapbook _and_ it's magically locked for my magical signature for backup security. Mother did that."

Hermione relaxed at that, then turned on Chris.

"What does your family do?"

"Mostly, we just have a normal Muggle Christmas like you. It's usually just me and Mum, but this year is different." He grinned. "This year, I've got friends over."

"Why, didn't you have any friends in primary school?" asked Hermione.

"Mum homeschooled me. Still is, actually. When I'm not doing my Hogwarts work, I'm working on my Muggle Education. This semester, I had to get my first year of secondary school history done. We're starting Elementary Math I in the summer for my maths and classic literature for my English. Science isn't too bad, I suppose. I can't wait to get to chemistry and blow something up. Kind of like Potions, except on purpose."

Draco looked at him oddly. "Why are you continuing your Muggle education?"

"Because, one day, I might want to get a college degree, but in order to get that, I have to first be able to pass my A-levels. That way, if I ever need to, I can hold a good job in either world."

Hermione frowned. "I never thought of doing that. Do you think your mom would be willing to teach me?"

Chris smiled. "I'm pretty sure. I'll ask her. What about you, Draco?"

The pureblood smiled. "I'll think about it. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea after all."

* * *

That night, Rose read one of her favorite books while keeping an ear out for her charges. They were enjoying themselves. Chris and Hermione had introduced Draco to a Muggle game called Sorry and the blonde Ravenclaw had promptly trounced the other two once he got the hang of it.

She turned another page of _A Wrinkle in Time. _She was glad Draco had made friends with Hermione and Chris.

Everything was going according to plan.

* * *

Okay, so originally, this chapter would've covered the entirety of Christmas Break, but this is everything I have written up to this point, with the exception of a few broken scenes for future chapters. I figured it would be better to finally publish this chapter then wait for it be bigger.

Anyway, I do hope this chapter gives more dimension to the characters. And that I got the info on the British educational system correct. If anything's wrong, I chalk that up to my being American.

One more thing: How many of y'all would support a Yahoo Group for this story?

What else? Mostly, I'm trying to write between bouts of Calculus III. We've started the next chapter and the material looks a whole lot better than the previous stuff. Gah, I don't know what possessed me to take that class. Oh, yeah, math major, _required_.

To my reviewers. I treasure each and every one of y'all.

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, the lady of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, Frosted Midnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, mrmistoffelees, MagZ86, athenakitty, njferrell, Phankam, thyrokio, McFressie, madeye harry, pottersparky, AnnF, Treck, graynavarre, Raggedygal, pallaskitty, A, slmncpm, Paladin13, Elfwyn, Faded Feathers, RID3RLVR, Inumaru12, Lunchbox05, Worldmaker, kewr69, fraewyn, chibi kyuu-chan, Firehedgehog, Guardian Dimension, Potterdownthestreet, dexterZ, Locathah, James018, azphxbrd, Eternal Silver Flame, FlyLeaf157, and peppymint.

If I missed or repeated your name, please let me know. I am not ignoring you; it was a simple mistake on my part that will be rectified immediately.

Hi, ho, it's back to studying I go. Please read, and review. Corrections are appreciated, flames are lizard-warming, and reviews are rewarded with dark chocolate-covered cherries.

Until next time.


	8. Chapter 8

Okay, so my plan to write three chapters during spring break didn't go through due to slogging through this chapter. I will be putting in more info from the first book as I go along, hopefully "introducing" Hagrid and Norbert in the next chapter as our new trio searches for more clues to the hidden object. I believe this story should finish at a dozen chapters for first year. Dunno if I'll start a new one for Year 2 or keep going on this one. Opinions welcome.

Oh, and thanks to Perfect Lionheart and her story _Partially Kissed Hero_ for the idea of Calming Draughts inside lemon drops. She is my inspiration for parts of this story and I highly recommend reading _Partially Kissed Hero_, especially if you love laughing at the sheer stupidity of the Wizarding World and the brilliance of Harry, Hermione, and Luna.

So without further ado, I present the next chapter, hot off the presses.

* * *

Chapter VIII: Magic Show and Christmas

At Hogwarts, Dumbledore inspected the Mirror of Erised. His reflection scowled back, as the only thing it could find in the man's heart to reflect was the desire to rule over every soul on earth with an iron fist.

Satisfied, Dumbledore left the Mirror, the Sorcerer's Stone safely tucked away inside it. If Voldemort managed to get past the defenses he had had the teachers set up, he would still not be able to access the Stone due to that "wanting to find the stone but not use it" bit he had thought up. Granted, Dumbledore himself could not access the Stone, but he would rather this than keep it out in plain sight for Voldemort to pick up like a common trinket. He would send a teacher to get it out of the mirror when the need arose.

As he closed the door and the Cerberus awoke, he popped a lemon drop in his mouth, a curious treat that he had altered so as to hide his true nature.

Yes, this would draw out Voldemort so he could finally kill him and get the glory that was rightfully his.

* * *

The morning after the sleepover was a bustling affair. The living room was rearranged for seating and a small stage transfigured for the children's magic show. When everything was prepared, Rose turned on the spot with a pop and Disapparated to the Granger home. Hermione stared in wonder at the space vacated by Rose. Another minute later and Rose reappeared, this time with the home Portkey that the Grangers were gripping tightly, with eyes shut. They opened them tentatively, taking in the magical atmosphere and the Christmas decorations.

"Wow," breathed Carol. "These decorations are–"

"Amazing," finished Alan.

Rose beamed and beckoned the Muggles to the three chairs facing the stage. They took their seats, while Rose walked onto the stage.

"Lady and Gentleman, the Wizarding World is proud to present Chris Evans, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy!"

Rose took her seat as they applauded. The three children came onto the stage, resplendent in traditional magician's outfits. Even Hermione had a magician's outfit on, instead of a gaudy assistant's outfit. Chris took off his hat and bowed.

"Welcome. We are pleased to present the very first true magical show. We will start with a basic Levitation Charm, seen many times in magic shows to make people float."

Draco made the appropriate swish-and-flick wand motion at Hermione, who floated a foot off the floor for about five seconds. There was applause from the adults.

This time Draco stepped forward. "Another trick is making an animal appear from out of a hat."

Draco took his hat, showing the "crowd" it was empty, then poked the hat with his wand. Instantly, a white rabbit appeared, its pink nose twitching, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"A simple Conjuration that lasts a few seconds at best, giving the illusion of a real animal."

Hermione stepped up, a cup in one hand. "Another Conjuration is the elements, though these stay active much longer."

Hermione waved her wand and whispered the Bluebell Fire Charm that she had used several times before to keep them warm between classes. Blue flames leapt suddenly from the top of her wand, making her parents _ooh_ in surprise. But they were extinguished a few seconds later when Hermione waved her wand like one would do to put out a match. Another wave and water poured out from her wand into the glass. She lifted the wand and the stream ceased. Handing the cup to Chris, she gave her wand a sharp jab and pull up. Instantly a compressed stream of air shot out with a hiss, causing the Grangers to jump in surprise.

"Earth is the hardest to manipulate, because it cannot be conjured like the other three. Instead, the field of Herbology takes over this area."

She produced from her own hat a bunch of earwiggy flowers that looked like yellow cabbages and gave them to her mother. Instantly, the plant curled around her hand, making Carol stiffen at the moving plant, before relaxing and stroking it. It quivered under her touch.

It was Chris's turn again.

"Potions is another branch of magic, though it doesn't require any wandwaving. For convenience sake, we have three pre-brewed potions."

Indeed, in his hands were three small vials, one blue, one green, and one yellow.

"The blue one is a simple potion that changes skin tones."

To illustrate this, he took a sip of the potion. Instantly, his skin turned a brilliant blue hue.

"The green is a Hair-Growth Potion."

"I'll volunteer on that," piped up Alan, nervously feeling the bald spot on the back of his head. Chris handed it to him and the man drank it. A few seconds later, the man looked like a hippie as his hair suddenly grew out to his waist. A flick of Rose's wand and the hair had been cut back to just below his ears.

"The yellow is a potion that temporarily ages a person. Magical countermeasures such as Age Lines are able to detect and reject anyone using an Aging Potion. For this reason, Age Lines are used at the entrances of clubs and gambling casinos."

Draco volunteered for this potion. He was careful to only drink a drop. Instantly, his physical form aged to about sixteen years old. Luckily, his clothes had an Expansion Charm built in and changed with him.

"Cool!" he said in a slightly deeper voice. The potion only lasted for a few minutes and then he changed back.

"And that has been our small magic show," said Chris, his hair mostly reverted back. "But Mom has volunteered to do some advanced magic."

The children stepped off the stage as Rose stood.

"One form of magic is the kind that I use to go places instead of a car." She turned on her heel and Disapparated, reappearing a few feet away. "This is advantageous in a duel or battle, because a witch or wizard can shoot a spell, then disappear before the enemy has a chance to respond and when they do, the person's already gone."

"Another higher magic is a self-transfiguration. Some wizards have the ability to change themselves into animals. This special ability is required to be registered with the Ministry of Magic, but there have been cases where witches and wizards have self-taught themselves and never registered. I myself was one of those people, lucky enough to be taught by a teacher who was not registered with the Ministry himself."

Rose concentrated and her form shifted and shrunk until there was a black panther sitting in her place, twitching her long tail. The Grangers' eyes widened at this correlation to magical myths. With a purr, Rose shifted back.

"Some witches and wizards during the Middle Ages that could transform into animals were cat Animangi. Every once in a while , a witch or wizard was caught in mid-transformation, thus leading to the belief that cats were a part of demon-worship."

"What was your mentor's form?" asked Alan.

Rose smiled. "I can only say it matched his personality perfectly."

"Is he still alive?" queried Carol.

Rose fidgeted. "He – there was an explosion–"

"Say no more, dear," said Carol uncomfortably, patting her shoulder. She obviously looked like she regretted asking.

"Thank you," said Rose, drying her eyes. "Um, who wants lunch?"

Immediately, the three children jumped up, their hands high.

"Well, that satisfies that, then. Hope you don't mind homemade fish 'n chips."

* * *

After lunch, Draco and Hermione found Chris in the library.

"Hey, Chris," greeted Hermione.

"Hey, Hermione," he returned with a grin. "What is it?"

"Well, we wanted to ask you something," she said, sitting down in one of the comfy armchairs.

"Do you remember that first day on the train?" asked Draco. When Chris nodded, he continued. "We were wondering where you got all your information from."

Chris grinned. "I wondered when you would ask me that." He got up and began pulling books off a shelf. "I kept these together just in case."

They looked over the titles: _Wizarding Genealogies of the Twentieth Century, To Be or Not To Be: A Study of Pureblood Society, __Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_, the list went on and on.

"Wow," breathed Hermione, picking up _To Be or Not to Be_, which displayed a tree with its branches all interlocked and tangled into one big knot.

"When I was little, I'd complain to Mom I was bored and she'd set me a random topic to write a thousand word essay on. Two years ago, I made the mistake of telling Mom that the purer the blood ought to mean the purer the magic. She set me a five thousand word essay for that one. That day in the train, I gave you a brief summary of what she made me write." He flexed his hand as a sympathy twinge worked its way down his arm.

"What's this?" asked Draco, picking up a stack of parchment divided by three colors.

"That's the O.W.L. results of the past century, divided according to blood group. As you can see, half-bloods and Muggle-borns are the vast majority."

And indeed, the blue indicating Muggle-born and the green indicating half-blood far outweighed the red indicating pure-bloods.

Draco whistled in amazement. "I can't believe this."

Chris shrugged nonchalantly. "The results speak for themselves, I think."

From the living room, they heard Rose shout for Hermione.

"Coming!" she yelled back. She looked forlornly at the books. "I wish I could take those with me."

"They should be at the Hogwarts library, if you know where to look," said Chris.

Hermione brightened up. "I'll do that!"

She practically skipped out of the room. Draco shook his head.

"Girls and books."

"Oi, I like books, thank you very much!"

"I didn't call you a girl either, did I?"

"No."

"Thought not."

* * *

Christmas dawned with a thick layer of snow upon the Evans household. Chris awoke with a grin, threw off the covers, and ran downstairs, his footsteps thundering. He found his mother waiting in the living room next to the tree, sipping her morning cup of coffee.

"Took you long enough," she said, gesturing to the pile of presents under the tree. Chris recognized Hermione's neat signature and Draco's stylish handwriting on several of the packages. He tore into Hermione's first. Hers was a box of sugar-free sweets and a homework journal. Draco's was a box of chocolate frogs and a magical chess set.

Chris had sent them presents via Hedwig. He had given Hermione a book on middle-level spells and a 10 galleon gift certificate for Flourish and Blotts. He had given Draco the complete set of _The Chronicles of Narnia_, which he knew would fascinate the blonde Ravenclaw for hours on end, as well as a Muggle movie voucher to go see the newly released _Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring_ before they went back to school.

While playing his new chess set with his mother, he munched on a chocolate frog, glancing over his card (Dumbledore). Finished with it, he placed it in his bathrobe's pocket and resumed the game, only to lose fifteen minutes later when his mother put his king in triple checkmate.

* * *

I was looking at my stats for this story the other day and my jaw dropped. I have gotten farther on seven, now eight chapters, of this story than my complete, longer, other works. I'm not complaining, mind you, I'm actually pretty impressed. As of this chapter being posted, this story is in 65 C2s, 143 favorites, and 303 story alerts. Plus, almost twenty thousand hits!

Questions section. It has occurred to me that the last chapter didn't contain any Q&A. So here's a few that have popped up.

_Can you give any more hints about Rose?_ I've been dropping hints along the way. Once the beans are spilled, pretty much the story will unfold itself. I can only do so much.

_Why is Chris so smart? Ergo, why is he using big words_? When I was that age, one of my favorite activities was pulling out the dictionary and choosing a random word for that day to memorize the spelling and definition. I still do that today. The relation to the story is that if a child hears or reads big words at a young age, it's natural for the child to use them.

_What's the deal with Rose's Animagus form? _I like black cats, especially panthers. I chose that form because it will have importance in the future.

_Who was her mentor? _Ah, now that _would_ be telling, wouldn't it? But when the answer is revealed, I'm gonna get a whole lot of "_You've got to be kidding me_"s.

PS: I HAVE EDITED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS IN MINOR WAYS. PLEASE REREAD THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS WHEN YOU GET A MINUTE SO YOU CAN SEE.

Now, I have a question for y'all and I really would appreciate an answer.

**Do y'all want a Yahoo Group to accompany this story?** I know a few other authors who have chosen to go this route so that reviewers can talk to each other and ask questions and stuff like that. Let me know by voting in the poll in my profile page! The poll will be open until April 1st and will close on 12:01 am on April 2nd.

If the majority votes for the group, there will be different posts created for y'all to speculate to your heart's content. I'll drop in every once in a while but mostly it'll be for y'all.

Thanks to my awesome reviewers. Let's see, how about mint chocolate leprechauns for everyone:

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, The Lady Of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, Frosted Midnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, mrmistoffelees, MagZ86, athenakitty, njferrell, Phankam, thyrokio, McFressie, madeye harry, pottersparky, AnnF, Treck, graynavarre, Raggedygal, pallaskitty, A, slmncpm, Paladin13, Elfwyn, Faded Feathers, RID3RLVR, Inumaru12, Lunchbox05, Worldmaker, kewr69, fraewyn, chibi kyuu-chan, Firehedgehog, Guardian Dimension, Potterdownthestreet, dexterZ, Locathah, James018, azphxbrd, Eternal Silver Flame, FlyLeaf157, peppymint, wizmage, Ignatia Nox La Gambit, lectorsum, Anna Taure, GabbyKat13, kewr69, graynavarre, Ranger Dragen, TLDriver66, MajorBookworm94, aboulhosncc, tlfsjs, jabarber69, rellenh, Keronshara, Jfitzgerald, shiftyless, Hikari-and-Akari, Gaurdian9641, clt, Hemotem, King InuYasha, Alorkin, Kitsumi-Hime, and gothic-hands.

I got, like, fifty reviewers last chapter and for that I am extremely grateful. I am trying to answer every review I get but if I haven't answered yours yet from the previous chapter, I am working on it. If I have forgotten your name, doubled it, or otherwise messed up in the reviewer box, please let me know.

The second half of college is about to start up. Hopefully, by this time next weekend, I will have finished the next chapter and posted it. If not, please be patient. Like the saying goes, "It'll get worse before it gets better."


	9. Chapter 9

Aargh! The only thing I hate about college, really, is all the homework! Why can't he assign a dozen problems? _Noo_, he has to assign thirty-odd _every_ _single_ _time_!

(_Authoress goes off rambling; Muses look at each other_)

Cassi: Her memory's shot.

Mariyh: I agree.

Nina: Erm, guys, I don't think the readers have met us yet.

DT: Quite right!

Cassi: Okay, brief introduction before the story, cause I think Authoress forgot about reality for a moment and it's up to us to post the next chapter. Cassie, Slytherin House, the dark and cunning side.

Mariyh: Mariyh, Gryffindor House, the light and random-minded side.

Nina: Nina, Ravenclaw House, the brains behind the stories.

DT: DT, short for "David Tennant," my real-life British look-alike I'm based on, Hufflepuff House. The handsome, only male, muse of the group, I am the romance _in_ the stories!

Cassi: (Mock vomits) More info in the profile.

* * *

Chapter IX: Dungeons and Dragons

With the resuming of school shortly after the New Year, Chris, Hermione, and Draco took the opportunity of the first week back being light to do some library searches on what the object might be inside the school As none of them had actually seen what it looked like, the guesses ranged from jewels to magical artifacts.

Draco and Hermione had enjoyed their Christmas presents. Draco had been especially grateful when Hedwig showed up at his window to give him his Christmas presents. He still hadn't told his parents he was friends with a Muggle-born and a half-blood and wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

Their biggest break came at the beginning of March, when they were poring over a section on the Koh-i-Noor, which, according to one legend, whoever owned the Koh-i-Noor ruled the world.

As Chris stood up to grab his bag for Potions class, the Dumbledore chocolate frog card from Christmas fell out of his pocket.

"Hey, Chris, you dropped this," said Draco, picking it up. He skimmed it, then snorted. "Dumbledore. There's a million of those all over Britain."

"What does it say?" asked Hermione.

Draco reeled it off. "'Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.'"

Hermione frowned. "Nicolas Flamel. Nicolas Flamel. _Why_ is that name so familiar?"

Draco and Chris glanced at each other, then Chris said, "Dunno, but if we don't get moving, we'll be late for Potions."

* * *

As Chris was stirring his potion, he noticed out of the corner of his eye Professor Snape seemed almost antsy, as if he were eager to get this class out of the way. Then again, it _was_ a Friday. Maybe the Potions Master didn't want to be stuck in the dungeons with a bunch of kids who weren't paying as much attention to their potion as they were to thoughts of the pleasant, comfortably warm, day awaiting them outside.

Finally, the end of the lesson came and Chris and Draco bottled up their samples and put them on Professor Snape's desk. His mind on his growling stomach, Chris packed up his stuff and left quickly, his mind intent on dinner in the Great Hall.

About halfway there, Chris noticed his bag was lighter than normal. He stopped in the middle of the narrow hallway, students complaining that he was in the way. Apologizing, he dug around in his bag.

"I think I left my potions book in the classroom. I'll see you two at dinner."

Hermione nodded. "I have to go to the library quickly. I may have an idea about Nicholas Flamel."

"I'll go save us seats," said Draco.

The three split in their respective directions.

Chris practically flew down to the Potions classroom. When he poked his head inside, Snape was nowhere to be seen. He could see his book where he left it on the seat across the room. He slipped in and, grabbing the book, stuffed it quickly in the bag. He slung the bag back over his shoulder and made for the exit. He paused as he heard heavy footsteps coming his way, with lighter, panicked steps in between.

Panicking, he looked around and saw that the wooden door of the spare cauldron room was ajar. Thanking his lucky stars, he slipped in and shut it until there was only a crack left, because, as everyone knows, you never shut a door with yourself inside, lest it lock you in. _Especially_ in a magical school.

To his great surprise, Snape stalked in, grasping a struggling and stuttering Quirrell by the lapels. Snape threw the man into the center of the classroom and, using his wand, locked the door. Quirrell's back was to him from his current position, but he could clearly see the look on Snape's face.

"There we go. Now, the only reason I dragged you down here is I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Sorcerer's Stone after all."

Chris leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?"

"B-b-but Severus, I–"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you–"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

A cauldron chose that moment to slide out of place, grinding against its neighbor. Chris whipped around and steadied the cauldron, just in time to hear Snape say, "–your little bit of hocus pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't–"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He unlocked the door and shoved Quirrell out of the room, who was still protesting and stuttering.

Snape sighed heavily, then whipped around and stormed into his office, slamming the door behind him. Chris waited a minute to see if the Potions Master would come back out, but he did not. Stealthily, Chris opened the door, thanking Filch for at least being obsessive-compulsive enough to oil the hinges.

With one last look behind him, Chris sprinted out.

* * *

"Found it!" Hermione cried in a hushed tone, plopping a heavy book on their lunch table, making their cups rattle and Draco jump a foot high. "Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of–"

"The Sorcerer's Stone," finished Chris, sliding into the seat next to Draco and reaching for a ham sandwich.

Hermione looked rather put-out. "If you knew, why did you have me look it up?" she hissed.

Chris glared at her, swallowing the sandwich. "Because I just found out myself. Look…"

Quickly, he relayed the conversation between Snape and Quirrell.

"So we're right, it _is_ the Sorcerer's Stone. It sounded like Snape's trying to force Quirrell to help him get it. He asked if he knew how to get past the Cerberus – and he said something about Quirrell's 'hocus pocus' – I reckon there are other things guarding the stone apart from that Cerberus, loads of enchantments, probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti-Dark Arts spell which Snape needs to break through–"

"But why would Snape want the stone?" asked Hermione.

"Well, what are its properties?"

Hermione opened the book and the boys squawked and covered their food as dust rose from the book.

_The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer__'__s Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal._

_There have been many reports of the __Sorcerer__'__s__ Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight)._

"Again, why does Snape want it?"

Draco sighed. "He was a Death Eater years and years ago. Maybe he wants it for You-Know-Who."

Chris stared at him. "A Death Eater? But you just can't just _quit_ being a Death Eater."

"Death Eater?" queried Hermione.

"That was the name of the Dark Lord's followers," said Draco.

"Just say his name," said Chris, irritated. "He won't appear if you say it: Voldemort."

Draco winced. "Please don't do that."

"Voldy-moldy, Moldy-voldy-wart," chanted Chris in a sing-song manner.

Hermione giggled. "Well, when you put him name that way…"

Draco sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Back to the topic at hand."

"I agree," said Chris. "And that's Snape."

"Maybe he was bluffing," hazarded Hermione.

Draco snorted. "Against Quirrell? He must be losing his touch, Quirrell wouldn't hurt a fly. He'd probably run away screaming."

"You said he mentioned Hagrid?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, he specifically asked if Quirrell 'had found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet.'"

"Well, then," said Hermione. "That settles it. We'll have to go see Hagrid."

Draco shook his head. "Count me out. I wouldn't be able to stand him."

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"'Cause he's a sort of _savage_ – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"That's very cruel, Draco," said Hermione. "Just because someone's different doesn't mean they're automatically below you."

"It's the truth," said Draco stubbornly. "If you don't like it, that's your problem."

"Fine!" Hermione slammed the book shut and, clutching it to her chest, flounced out of the Great Hall, her chin held high.

"Great, look what you did," said Chris, glaring at Draco, while getting up. "Hermione, wait up!"

"What? I only told the truth!" Draco yelled, annoyed. He picked up a tuna sandwich and sighed, then tore into it, ignoring the glares of other Ravenclaws farther down the table.

* * *

"Hermione, wait up!"

Hermione paused as Chris ran up to her.

"Hermione, you know he didn't mean it."

"Yes, he did," said Hermione, bordering on tears. "He was raised that way, a pure-blood wizard who – who looks down on anyone not of his rank." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "It's a wonder we got this far without conflict."

"But Hermione–"

"So, when are we going down to Hagrid's?" she asked, regaining her composure.

"Er…how about now?" asked Chris, regaining his composure.

Hermione nodded jerkily and made for the exit. Chris glanced back at the Great Hall, shook his head and followed Hermione onto the grounds.

* * *

A few minutes later found the two in front of Hagrid's hut, knocking on his door. It was opened and Chris had to crane his neck upward to see the man's face.

"Well, 'ello there!" he said brightly.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Hermione shyly. "My name's Hermione Granger. This is Chris Evans. Can we come in?"

"Er–" Hagrid glanced behind himself at something in his hut, but before Chris could see properly into the hut, Hagrid had moved to block the entrance. "Now's not a good time."

"But Hagrid," said Chris quickly, stepping forward, "we really need to talk to you. You see, we found a strange animal and, being as you _are_ the gamekeeper, we were hoping you could tell us about it."

"Why don' you ask Professor Kettleburn?" asked Hagrid, moved the door steadily closed.

"Well, like I said, you're the gamekeeper. I don't think Professor Kettleburn would like two first years bothering him, anyway. He looks very…scary."

That last bit, combined with the look of impending disappointment, made Hagrid's resolve crumble. He sighed and opened the door, ushering the two students inside, and shut and locked it quickly.

It was stiflingly hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they refused. Hermione was still a little upset, and Chris had lost his appetite.

"So – yeh wanted to ask me somethin'?"

"Yes," said Chris. They were in now, no need to beat around the bush. "We found a dog and want to know what he exactly he eats."

"Wha' breed is 'e?"

"Well, he's big and brown and has three heads–"

Hagrid dropped the pot he had been about to put back on the stove. It clattered on the floor, spilling the last bit of tea on the floor. But Hagrid wasn't paying attention to the spreading liquid. He was gaping openmouthed at the children.

"'Ow do you know abou' Fluffy?" he finally demanded.

"Fluffy? Of all the names you could've chosen for a Cerberus, you chose _Fluffy_?" asked Chris incredulously. "Why not Hades or – or Butch even…_Fluffy_… I sympathize with the creature."

"Chris, that thing tried to _eat_ you," said Hermione.

"Wha' were you doing on tha' floor anyway?" demanded Hagrid.

"Wrong turn," said Chris shortly. "But why is Fluffy there, anyway?"

"He's there because Dumbledore wanted him ter guard the – never mind."

"The Sorcerer's Stone?" said Chris slyly.

Now Hagrid was turning purple. "Dare I ask 'ow you know _that_?" he ground out.

"The same way we know that Fluffy isn't the only thing guarding the Stone. Other stuff is as well."

"We also know it was moved here after the Gringotts fiasco," added Hermione. "Dumbledore would only do something like this for an old friend of his like Nicolas Flamel."

Hagrid covered his face with his huge hands. The small break made Chris notice how much he was sweating.

"Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling. So's Hermione." He indicated the girl's robe, which was already heavily stained with sweat.

"Can't, Chris, sorry," said Hagrid. Chris noticed him glance at the fire. Chris looked at it too.

"Hagrid – what's _that_?"

But he already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.

"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, but obviously glad to get off the subject of Fluffy and the Sorcerer's Stone. "That's – er..."

"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Hermione, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."

"Won it," said Hagrid, resigned to telling the two children everything, cat among the pixies and all. "Las' night. I was down in the village havin' a few drinks an' got into a game of cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter get rid of it, ter be honest."

"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" said Hermione, aghast.

"Well, I've bin doin' some readin'," said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library – _Dragon-Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_ – it's a bit outta date, o' course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, 'cause their mothers breathe on 'em, see, an' when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o' brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An' see here – how ter recognize diff'rent eggs – what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."

He looked very pleased with himself, but the children didn't, exchanging worried looks.

"Hagrid, you live in a _wooden house_," Chris finally said.

But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

* * *

As if things weren't bad enough, now not only were they worrying about exams and the Sorcerer's Stone and the possibility of it being stolen, they now could add aiding and abetting harboring an illegal magical creature on school grounds.

"A dragon?" Draco finally choked out, when Chris finally caught up with him on Monday. The blonde had been slyly avoiding Chris since the incident in the Great Hall, going to bed after Chris fell asleep and getting up before the others. "Does the idiot realize what could happen if the Ministry found out about it?"

"I don't think he cares," said Chris quietly. He glanced over at the other side of the Transfiguration room, where Hermione was putting her books away, her back turned to them. "He has something he's always wanted. He's refusing to see what could happen if that thing escaped and started eating students. Not only would the dragon be killed, but the prejudices stacked against him would probably earn the rest of his life in Azkaban, _if_ he was lucky."

They walked out of the classroom, taking care to keep their voices low.

"We need to find a way to get that thing out, preferably before it hatches."

"How are we going to do that?"

"Well, well, lookie what we have here, Forge."

"I do declare, Gred, two firsties making trouble."

Draco and Chris whipped around to see a pair of Gryffindor third-years leaning against the wall they had just passed. They were identical, down to the freckles on their noses.

"Weasleys, I take it," Draco sneered. Chris held up a hand.

"Wait, Draco, they might be able to help us."

"_Help_ us? Why would they _help_ us?"

"Because," said Chris patiently, "these two are the infamous Weasley twins. Mum warned me about them."

"Ah, our reputation–"

"–precedes us, it seems."

"But we are –"

"–at a loss of _your_ names."

"I'm Chris Evans. This doofus is Draco Malfoy."

"Oi!"

"Can we go into this classroom and discuss this, hm?"

The four boys moved into the closest classroom, which was, thankfully, empty.

"We have a problem," said Chris bluntly. "It seems our school gamekeeper has come into possession of an illegal magical creature and we need to get it out of here before it is born, preferably."

"Preferably, of course, but how–"

"–can we help?"

"Simple. Do you know anybody who deals with dragons?"

The twins' faces lit up with glee.

"You would have to ask us–"

"–the easiest question ever! Of course we do!"

"Our brother Charlie works on the Romanian Dragon Preserve, you see."

"We could send him an owl, ask him to come pick it up."

Chris rubbed his chin. "So long as he can get here before it hatches. I reckon it'll be about two weeks."

One twin, Chris wasn't sure, offered, "Hagrid could give it to Professor Dumbledore–"

"No, Dumbledore doesn't need to be involved," cut off Chris. "The more people that know, the bigger the chance this could fall apart before it even gets off the ground."

The twins inclined their heads in a mirror action.

"Your wish–"

"–our command."

"We'll be in touch," they said in unison before slipping out.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" Chris asked Draco, before rejoining the throng of students outside.

Draco just shook his head, muttering to himself as he followed Chris out. "_Weasleys_. Great Merlin, what did I do in a previous life to resort to working with _Weasleys_?"

* * *

As you can tell, I've taken some liberties with the time line, sped some things up, other things slowed down, etcetera. So, please no complaints about that. I'm trying to get this year finished up in about a dozen chapters or so. Keep in mind the movies compacted the years even further.

In other news, the Yahoo Group is now up. The link is in my profile. The only thing I request before joining is that you get a fanfiction account. It's easy and takes only a few minutes to complete. You do _not_ have to have a Yahoo account for my group, however. Membership is restricted. This way, only the reviewers are the only ones to get in and not some old pervert looking for a bunch of vulnerable children. If you wish to join, simply e-mail me your e-mail address to the following address, once you take out the spaces and stuff. I will then send the invite along.

p o t t e r p h a n 2 1 (at) y a h o o . c o m

The main reason for this is that I plan on moving the reviewer box out of the stories before it gets too big and I get a censor note from the administration for making half my stories the reviewer box. Rest assured, I will still leave little gifts for my reviewers. Instead, I will have a special links section with all the reviewers listed. This is so that every other reviewer can go to the link folder and can interact with other reviewers on a personal basis, read that person's stories, or just check out their profiles.

Hopefully, this will bring everyone closer together, 'cause this story is in for the long haul, especially at the rate I'm writing chapters. I'm looking to finish Year 1 before the month is out, but that's my hopeful thinking.

Other features will be uploading the chapters there first in the document folders as soon as I figure out how to turn MS Word documents to PDF format, if I can. Otherwise, I'll just upload them as html docouments. Also present is the message posting features, allowing everyone to openly communicate with those who have chosen to receive those posts. Art and drawings would add color to the Group and would be greatly appreciated.

There we go.

To my reviewers. This is the last reviewer box, but to celebrate the establishment of the Group, I hereby give you all…Chocolate Dragons! From the makers of Chocolate Frogs, these dragons melt in your mouth while giving you a warm feeling inside. They come in milk, dark, sweet, sugar-free and white chocolate.

Oraman Asturi, just a little CRAZIEE, panther73110, CharmedMillE, Daxz Panther, pippan121, Remusgrl01, Shadowed Ember, firewingTM, The Lady Of Misfortune, o4q', TFinger2, CrazySmallLady, Krystal, HarrySirius Fan, minerdude, Lientjuhh, FrostedMidnight, dyingimmortal, ElementUchihaMaster, NovaSolarian, Tabbycat1220, gaul1, murdrax, nicky12330, ChavFather, Flyguy25, adenoide, SUZITROUBLE, Marikili68, Shinigami, Knight25, Studebaker1960, Hogwart'sBestEvilRavenclaw, mrmistoffelees, MagZ86, athenakitty, njferrell, Phankam, thyrokio, McFressie, madeye harry, pottersparky, AnnF, Treck, graynavarre, Raggedygal, pallaskitty, A, slmncpm, Paladin13, Elfwyn, Faded Feathers, RID3RLVR, Inumaru12, Lunchbox05, Worldmaker, kewr69, fraewyn, chibi kyuu-chan, Firehedgehog, Guardian Dimension, Potterdownthestreet, dexterZ, Locathah, James018, azphxbrd, Eternal Silver Flame, FlyLeaf157, peppymint, wizmage, Ignatia Nox La Gambit, lectorsum, Anna Taure, GabbyKat13, graynavarre, Ranger Dragen, TLDriver66, MajorBookworm94, aboulhosncc, tlfsjs, jabarber69, rellenh, Keronshara, Jfitzgerald, shiftyless, Hikari-and-Akari, Gaurdian9641, clt, Hemotem, King InuYasha, Alorkin, Kitsumi-Hime, gothic-hands, Raggedygal, CyberArcRotarr, ladysavay, ctc, JKMcGonagall, Aervon223, fifespice, That-Alien-Thing, Mariann's, BabyIn-A-Corner, zeropolis79, Evil1, ROBERT-19588, Mara Mcgregor, wulfler, Princess Ravenclaw, Fanfic-AddictYuki, A Cullen twilighter, and songmuyang.

So, I will see you all at the Yahoo Group shortly, I hope!


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, I'm back. The only excuse I can offer is that my teachers have realized it is the bottom of the ninth of the semester and are trying to cram as much as possible into the last few weeks as possible. Urgh, overload.

Some have accused me of sticking too close to the book. That is because things were already in motion before the year started: The stone was coming to Hogwarts; Quirrell tried to rob Gringott's and because of his failure has Voldie sticking out the back of his head; and, of course, Hagrid got the dragon egg before he met Chris.

Speaking of the book, should you see any bits that shouldn't be there, please let me know. That's the price of copying bits from the book itself; some things slip through the cracks. I am not perfect, so I guarantee this has and will happen. And no, I don't want a Beta.

So, anyway, this chapter is kind of long-ish, but there is a reason for that at the bottom. Please enjoy and when you're done, drop a review here or at the Yahoo Group, if you're a member of that. Again, more info at the bottom.

* * *

Chapter X: Midnight Excursions

The twins were as good as their word. Through ways that were probably illegal, the two had procured a small non-school Scope owl and sent it to their brother Charlie in Romania. It had taken the small owl three days to get there and three to get back. Charlie was only too happy to come and take the egg.

But, as always, there was a catch.

Two days before Charlie was due to arrive, Hedwig arrived at the Ravenclaw table at breakfast, bearing a note from Hagrid with two words: _It's hatching_.

Chris handed Draco the note. The boy swore under his breath as he read it.

"Great. That's just great. And there's not enough time to send the guy another owl."

"We'll have to work something out," said Chris, taking care not to be overheard. "C'mon. We have double Herbology with the 'Puffs."

As they gathered their stuff, Chris heard Draco mutter, "And Hermione."

* * *

In Herbology, Hermione ignored the two boys, working with one of the Hufflepuff girls instead. As the lesson ended, Chris fought the wave of exiting students to get to her. Before she could get away, Chris got her by the upper arm, murmuring into her ear, "_It's_ _hatching_." That made Hermione freeze and the blood drain out of her face. She nodded and willingly went with him, pausing only when she saw Draco nervously waiting outside.

"C'mon, you two can kiss and make up later. Right now, we've got to get to Hagrid."

Swallowing in resignation, Hermione nodded and the three made for Hagrid's hut.

None of them noticed they were being tailed.

* * *

Hagrid greeted them looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out." He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in it. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped down onto the table. It wasn't exactly pretty; Chris thought it looked like a crumpled, black umbrella. Its spiny wings were huge compared to its skinny jet body and it had a long snout with wide nostrils, stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed. A couple of sparks flew out of its snout.

"Isn't he _beautiful_?" Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon's head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed fangs.

"Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!" said Hagrid.

"Hagrid," said Hermione, "how fast do Norwegian ridgebacks grow, exactly?"

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face – he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

"What's the matter?"

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains – it's a kid – he's runnin' back up ter the school."

Chris bolted to the door and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking him.

Ronald Weasley had seen the dragon.

* * *

The next day was very tense as every time they saw Weasley, the red-head was smirking as though he knew something that they did not. To make things worse, Hagrid was starting to get attached to the dragon, naming it Norbert.

"Hagrid, please, you can't get attached to it," pleaded Chris. "Charlie will be here tomorrow night and will take him to Romania."

"But wha' if he don' like Romania?" sniffed Hagrid. "Wha' if the other dragons are mean to 'im?"

Chris pinched his nose in exasperation. Logic was clearly beyond Hagrid's comprehension at this point.

"Hagrid, if you keep Norbert, he will just keep getting bigger and bigger and pretty soon, he'll escape, someone will see him, and possibly kill him, thinking he's a threat. You'll come up, wanting to get him back, someone will put two and two again and you'll be arrested and charged and sent to Azkaban. This way, Norbert gets to go to a nice place, you stay out of trouble, and nothing bad happens to _either_ of you."

He took a deep breath.

"Draco and I are in contact with a dragon handler. Maybe you remember Charlie Weasley?"

"Yeah, grea' kid, loves magical creatures."

"He'll be here tomorrow night at midnight to pick up Norbert. I can only hope he knows some kind of tranquillizer spell."

The dragon took no notice of Chris, choosing to preen its wings instead.

* * *

After Chris left Hagrid's, he went in search of his friends. He found them eating lunch in the Great Hall, sitting about four feet apart, Hermione pointedly ignoring Draco, who was pushing his lunch around on his plate while looking askance at Hermione every few seconds.

"Look you two, you're gonna have to get along if we're going to pull this off tomorrow night," he said, sitting between them. "I can't have you two arguing. Someone will hear and discover us _and_ Norbert."

"I tried to apologize, Chris," said Draco, "but she won't listen to me."

Chris sighed. "Hermione–"

The girl turned to him.

"Draco's trying to talk to you."

She cleared her throat and looked expectantly at the boys.

"Draco?" prodded Chris.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I really am," Draco started. "It's just really hard to understand that just because you don't think the same way I do that you're wrong."

She said nothing.

"Hermione? I'm really trying here. I promise, I am. It's just the way I was raised, you know, and it's really hard getting over that but–"

"Apology accepted."

That shut Draco up. For about three seconds. "Really?"

She smiled. "Really really."

For the first time since the incident, Draco's face broke into a wide grin.

Chris sighed deeply. "Now that _that's_ over, let's get back to business."

* * *

As sunset approached on the eve of Charlie's arrival, the threesome nervously watched people file out of the common room to their beds. Finally, about ten o'clock, the last of the Ravenclaws, a fifth-year, left for bed, muttering revisions under his breath for the upcoming O.W.L.s.

Silently, they left the room and, by way of some of the shortcuts on their Ravenclaw maps, were down to the ground floor in about half the normal time. Hermione kept checking her watch as Chris and Draco alternated looking around the next corner. They almost ran into Filch once, but a cleverly placed dungbomb planted in the opposite direction they were going pulled the caretaker off their tracks. Even Mrs. Norris couldn't smell them through the stench.

Quickly, but silently, they exited the castle, taking care to make sure they weren't followed. Thankfully, it was a very dark, cloudy night, which ensured no one could see them from the castle itself.

Hagrid had Norbert packed and ready in a crate, large enough for the two foot long dragon not to be cramped but not so big that they couldn't carry it at a decent speed. Draco still groaned at the idea of work.

"He's got lots o' rats an' some brandy fer the journey," said Hagrid in a muffled voice. "An' I've packed his teddy bear in case he gets lonely. Jus' got it the other day."

From inside the crate came ripping noises that sounded to Chris as though the teddy was having his head torn off.

"Bye-bye, Norbert!" Hagrid sobbed, as Hermione stood guard outside while the boys took each end to carry it out. "Mommy will never forget you!"

How they managed to get the crate up to the castle, they never knew. Midnight ticked nearer as they heaved Norbert up the marble staircase in the entrance hall and along the dark corridors. Up one staircase, then another – it didn't help that they were clearly visible to anyone who chanced to appear out of nowhere.

"Nearly there!" Draco panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

"15 minutes," moaned Hermione at almost the same time.

A sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. They shrank into the shadows, staring at the outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hairnet, had Weasley by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how _dare_ you–"

"You don't understand, Professor, Chris Evans is coming – he's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on – I shall see Professor Snape about you, Weasley!"

"I swear!" the red-head howled as he was towed farther away. "I heard him talking about it yesterday at lunch!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. As they set down the crate, the boys collapsed against it, wheezing. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Weasley's got detention! I could sing!"

"Don't," Chris advised her, his face beet red. "Just – don't."

Chuckling about Weasley, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot, though quite surprised they were now towing a baby dragon instead of an egg. They showed the children the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend the crate between them. It was easily extended for the larger crate. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it, and then they each shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going...going..._gone_.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. But something was off…

"Wait," whispered Chris at the base. Feeling his heart pound, he reached out with one of the Occlumency/Legilimency exercises his mom had taught him, which was sensing his surroundings. They had joked about it when he was little, dubbing it the Force. With enough time and practice, Chris might eventually be able to connect with another person's mind in a very basic form of telepathy. But then, wasn't that just another name for Legilimency in the first place?

"Back up," he hissed fiercely. Draco and Hermione scrambled backward up the steps, Chris on their heels.

They burst back onto the top of the Astronomy Tower, locking the door to get a few extra minutes.

"Isn't there a stone around here that can be triggered for a hidden compartment of some sort?" asked Draco.

"Yes," said Hermione, whipping her wand out. Quickly, she tapped the stone cabinet where the extra telescopes were stored. Someone, probably Professor Sinastra, had taken out most of the telescopes for repair. There was just enough room for the three of them. Had they been any older, they would have been very lucky if even one of them would have fit.

As it was, after much squirming and pushing and a bit of accidental poking into random body parts, they were squashed into the closet. They shut it just as the door flew open and Filch stormed onto the Tower, his face livid.

"I know you're 'ere," they heard him growl. A yowl told them that Mrs. Norris was with her master. "Come ou', come ou', wher'ever yeh are."

Chris prayed that the caretaker couldn't hear their heavy breathing, nor smell the sweat from carrying the heavy crate. After what seemed like an eternity, they heard his footsteps walk away and the door slam shut again. Hermione reached up to open the door.

"Wait," whispered Chris. He listened closely. After another couple of minutes, they heard Filch curse and the door open and close again. This time, they were able to hear his footsteps going down the Tower steps and fading away.

"How'd you know he would do that?" asked Draco.

"I didn't," replied Chris honestly. "It was just a feeling I had."

"Well, either way, it looks like we're in the clear," said Hermione. She looked at them sideways, returning to her prim self now that the danger was over. "I only hope you two realize how many house points we would've lost if Filch had caught us."

The boys looked at each, then shook their heads. "Girls and rules."

* * *

At breakfast the next day, Weasley glared at the trio from his table.

"I heard he got detention and lost fifty points last night," said Draco, smirking. "The Slytherins aren't very happy with him, of course."

"I would imagine not," snickered Chris. "Last night, they were pretty far ahead. Now they're gonna have to fight to keep the Cup."

"And Ravenclaw's in second place," added Draco. "We could actually have a shot at it this year."

"It won't matter if we get the Cup if we don't start studying for those exams," said Hermione, her nose stuck in her Charms text. Most of the Ravenclaw students had at least one book out, exams their first priority as well.

Chris scowled. "Yeah, you're right. Library, then?"

"Library," they agreed in unison.

* * *

Two hours later, Chris felt like his head was about to burst with information. He himself was kneading his eyes with the palms of his hands while Hermione was sorting through the mounds of books for History of Magic information.

"Where _is_ that book on Elfric the Eager?"

"Try that thick book over there," said Chris, blindly pointing in the general direction he knew the book to be. Sure enough, it was there.

"Thanks," she muttered.

Draco was asleep on the table, his cheek stuck to the text describing one of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, a thin string of saliva hanging from his mouth. He halfway considered waking the blonde Ravenclaw, then remembered the last time he had tried to wake him. How was he supposed to know Draco could string someone up by their ankles while still sound asleep? No, he would let sleeping dragons lie.

"I'll see you later, okay?" he said.

"Yeah, later," she absentmindedly said, turning another page of the dusty book.

He gathered his books and left. He had only walked a hundred feet or so before he heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As he drew closer, he heard Quirrell's voice.

"No – no – not again, please–"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. Chris moved even closer.

"All right – all right–" he heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom, straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Chris didn't think Quirrell even noticed him. He waited until Quirrell's footsteps had disappeared, then peered into the classroom. It was empty, but a door stood ajar at the other end. Quickly, he moved across the room and through the door. The corridor on the other side was abandoned, but motion-activated torches flared to life as he looked down one end, then another. Nothing.

His brain wildly inventing theories, Chris ran back to the library, ignoring Madam Pince's call of "No running in the library!" Draco had just woken up and Hermione was working on drying the page he had been drooling on.

Quickly, he recounted what had just happened to them.

"And it sounds to me like Snape's won!" finished Chris.

"And like I told you before: he wouldn't go after Quirrell, that's just not like him," said Draco, irritated.

"There's still Fluffy, though" said Hermione optimistically.

"Maybe Snape's found out how to get past him without asking Hagrid," said Chris looking up at the thousands of books surrounding them. "I bet there's a book somewhere in here, telling you how to get past a three-headed dog."

He started pulling more books off shelves, but Hermione stopped him.

"Look, we'll go down and ask Hagrid when we get the chance, okay? The library will be closing in just a little bit anyway."

As if to prove her point, Madam Pince chose to walk by at that very instance.

"The library will be closing in – _what did you do to that book_?!" she screeched.

Draco looked dumbly at her, then at the still slightly moist book that had served as his pillow for half an hour. "Er–"

"Out! Out!" she screeched even more, waving her wand and causing their bags to hit them over the heads as they scrambled out.

As the doors slammed shut behind them, Draco glared banefully back.

"And I thought you were over obsessive with books, Hermione."

* * *

Two days later, Chris, Hermione, and Draco found out some shocking information.

"Get this," said Draco as they pulled out their Transfiguration texts. "Weasley's detention was in the Forbidden Forest last night, serving it with Hagrid, right? They went out there to find a unicorn that's been bleeding all over the place. They found it all right: There was some kind of creature drinking its blood."

"Ew!" exclaimed Hermione. "Why – or who – would do such a thing?"

"A unicorn's blood can save someone even if they're an inch from death," murmured Chris. "But killing a pure, innocent creature like a unicorn demands a price: the being who does the crime lives, but it's not a full life." He looked the other two in the eyes, grasping the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. "There's only one person who would stoop that low: Voldemort."

Draco shuddered. "If _He's_ back, we're in deep trouble."

The arrival of McGonagall cut off further musings as they started learning how to Transfigure quills into paper and vice versa.

* * *

Finally, the end of the chapter! I regret to say that the next chapter won't be posted until after my exams are over. I will be spending my time studying; if I can, I'll write and possibility get the last two chapters of Year 1 both written so I can have them up within a week at most of each other once my exams are over. I will be getting a job this summer, so I can only hope I get an hour or so each night to write.

Till then, my Yahoo group is open to all members. Please enjoy all the features there, including messages to each other and a poll open indefinitely both there and in my profile. If you have not received your invitation, either I haven't gotten down the list to you due to class work or your e-mail kicked it back because of images imbedded in it. AOL is _really_ bad about this.

Ooh, what else?

Right! The reward for this chapter is…bottles of butterbeer! There is a recipe for butterbeer at Mugglenet(dot)com, should you wish to check it out and make some yourself!

I think that's it. If you've noticed, there isn't a reviewer box. That's because there is a special links section in the group with all the reviewers listed and links to their profiles so that other reviewers can check them out.

New reviewers, if you wish to join, send me an e-mail! Only requirement is that you have a fanfiction account. I'm considering disabling anonymous reviews, since I rarely get any of those. Of the 200+ so far for this story, about five have been anonymous.

Until next time or at the Group,

–Moony's Metamorphmagus


	11. Chapter 11

I apologize most sincerely for the lateness of this chapter. It was due to three reasons. One, I crashed because of the end of the semester finally hitting me (2 As and a C, by the way; I think I might retake Cal.3 next spring). Two, the scene between Chris and Quirmort was giving me a fit. I had three different ways of them confronting each other that ended up in my trashcan. I finally wrote the ending here that I was most satisfied with. Third, I have found an online game that is quite addicting. Ever hear of Wizard101? Yeah, look for me there. I was up late last night playing it.

Anyway, I shall not ramble anymore for right now. You have a huge chapter ahead of you to read. If you see anything there that shouldn't be, let me know. I am only human, after all, and make mistakes. More info at the bottom.

**Trivia**: Some quotes here were pulled or adapted from other movies or books. See if you can find them.

**Warning**: Some gore at the end that may be considered T-rated. Consider yourself warned.

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter XI: Down the Rabbit Hole

But nothing happened. The days rolled gently from balmy April into an abnormally warm May, giving no indication of the danger lurking around the school. Every once in a while, Hermione, Chris or Draco would slip into the third-floor corridor and check on Fluffy; the low growls inside confirmed that the stone was still safe.

Chris decided to send his mother a letter, inserting an innocuous comment about Snape and his classes. Her reply, almost as if she had known the underlying message questioning Snape's loyalty, consisted of three words: _Trust_ _Professor_ _Snape_.

Exams came rapidly upon them. It was swelteringly hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuff-box – points were given for how pretty the snuff-box was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them almost all of them nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion. Chris just ignored the man and made his perfectly, while poor Neville accidentally made his cauldron melt, even with Hermione pre-preparing and ordering his ingredients so there wouldn't be any mix-ups.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Chris couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione, as they joined the crowds flocking out into the sunny grounds. "We needn't have learned about the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Draco groaned as he lay down under the nearest tree, followed quickly by Hermione. "Yeah, and I needn't have written two pages on that goblin." His hand flexed in sympathy pains.

But Chris wasn't listening, pacing instead of lying down with his friends. He could feel that something was about to happen, something bad…

Draco noticed his fidgety attitude. "Cheer up, Chris! Exams are over!"

But he couldn't. Something just wasn't right. From his position on the grassy slope next to the tree, he could see a lot of the grounds, including Hagrid's hut, where it looked like the huge man was bent over something.

And then it came to him.

He jumped to his feet.

"What?" snapped Draco from his comfortable position.

"I've just thought of something," said Chris, scrambling to his feet. "We've got to go and see Hagrid. Now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up. Draco sighed, then hauled himself to his feet.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Chris, now walking very fast, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? _Why_ didn't I see it before?"

"See _what_?" asked Draco exasperatedly, but Chris, who had broken into a sprint across the grounds toward the forest, didn't answer. Resigned, Draco and Hermione ran to catch up.

Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.

"Hullo," he said, smiling at the three panting children. "Finished yer exams? Got time fer a drink?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. We're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"

"Dunno," said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn't take his cloak off."

He saw two-thirds of them look stunned and raised his eyebrows. Draco, having been raised in the Wizarding World and familiar with under-the-counter transactions from his father, was the only one who reacted without surprise.

"It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head – that's the pub down in the village. Mighta bin a dragon dealer, mightn' he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."

His heart racing, Chris sank down next to the bowl of peas, trying to keep his tone even.

"What did you two talk about? Hogwarts?"

"Mighta come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah...he asked what I did, an' I told him I was gamekeeper here...he asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after...so I told him...an' I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon...an' then...I can' remember too well, 'cause he kept buyin' me drinks...Let's see...yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg an' we could play cards fer it if I wanted...but he had ter be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it ter go ter any old home...so I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy..."

"And did he – did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Chris asked, struggling to keep his voice calm, though he was sure the others could hear his heart thumping in fear.

"Well – yeah – how many three-headed dogs d'yeh meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece o' cake if yeh know how to calm him down, jus' play him a bit o' music an' he'll go straight off ter sleep–"

Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. He wasn't the only one; at once, the Draco and Hermione's faces dawned with realization.

"I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey – where're yeh goin'?"

For the three of them had bolted from Hagrid's hut faster than you could say "Rock Cakes."

"I knew something was gonna happen," said Chris. "I hate to say this, but we've got to get Dumbledore. He's the only one who can stop Voldemort."

He looked around wildly as if expecting to see directions pointing him to Dumbledore's office. Instead, all he saw was Professor McGonagall coming toward the castle with a stack of books. She had evidently chosen to do her reading outside today and he wouldn't blame her one bit. Well, better her than Snape, he supposed.

"Professor McGonagall!" he called.

The witch stopped, the pile of books quivering at the sudden lack of forward motion.

"Mr. Evans, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing inside?" she asked.

"Is Professor Dumbledore around?" piped up Hermione.

"No, I'm afraid he left ten minutes ago. An owl came for him from the Ministry, very urgent."

"Great, just great," muttered Chris.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at this suspicious behavior. "What is going on?"

Chris blew out a loud breath, throwing caution to the winds. "It's the Sorcerer's Stone, ma'am."

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn't pick them up.

"How do you know–?" she spluttered.

Chris shrugged. "Really, you tell the whole school an area's off limits, and you think not _one_ student might _accidentally_ run across it? Not exactly a good security system, don't you think?"

McGonagall stared at him in shock.

"I highly suggest you send an owl to Professor Dumbledore telling him to get back here," he continued.

McGonagall tried to interrupt him. "Now, listen here–"

"Furthermore," he overrode her, "Someone's about to steal that stone to resurrect Voldemort, which puts not only the entire school in danger, but every witch and wizard in existence!"

McGonagall swelled up in anger. "Mr. Evans! That will be ten points from Ravenclaw for your behavior!"

"And if Voldemort returns because of your inaction?" retorted Chris. He really wasn't in the mood for this. "You're in charge of the school while he's gone, Professor McGonagall! Can't you feel that something bad's about to happen?"

"That's enough!" she shrieked, causing several nearby students to run in terror and Hermione to cow behind the boys. "You-Know-Who died ten years ago! He's _dead_! You three will return to Ravenclaw Tower this instant! I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but it will be perfectly fine until Professor Dumbledore returns tomorrow. I will be speaking to your Head of House about this incident."

And scooping up her books, she angrily strode into the castle.

"It's now or never," said Chris, once he was sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor at any time. He found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."

"And I'm telling you, it can't be Uncle Severus," hissed Draco. It was the first time they had heard Draco refer to the Potions Master in a familiar way.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater," Chris shot back.

Draco's hands were drawn into fists. "I won't go with you if you keep thinking its Uncle Severus," he said stubbornly.

"Fine!" snapped Chris. "You coming, Hermione?"

The girl snapped out of the ping-pong daze she had been in and bit her lip. "But what if we get killed or worse, expelled?"

"BIG DEAL!" shouted Chris. "If Snape gets that Stone and brings Voldemort back to life, you and I are dead! Do you think he'd be nice enough to spare you because you're so _smart_? You're a Muggleborn! I'm a half-blood! According to that crazy nut, if you're not pure, you're not fit to live on this planet! He'd turn this place into a school for the Dark Arts! Without Dumbledore here, the Stone is ripe for the picking!"

Draco shook his head. "I'm gonna find Uncle Severus and tell him. You'll see, he isn't one of _His_ followers anymore."

"No, wait!" shouted Chris, but Draco had already disappeared into the castle. "Great, now it's just us."

A rustling in a nearby bush got their attention and out of pure survival instinct the two had their wands pointed at the bush within two seconds. The bush shuddered once more, then disgorged the offender onto his back.

"Neville?" asked Hermione tentatively.

Neville, covered in grass stains, sweating and clutching his toad, who seemed to have resigned herself to being caught again, stared up at the two Ravenclaws who still had their wands trained on him.

"Hi, guys," he said weakly. "Erm, I think you can put those away."

Chris blinked, then, embarrassed a little, stowed the wand. "Sorry, you scared us there."

"I heard what you said," he said quietly. The toad gave a soft croak as he stroked it. "About You-Know-Who and Snape. Is there anything I can do?"

"Well–" hedged Chris.

"Yes," said Hermione, jumping in. "We'll need help."

Quickly, she briefed the Gryffindor in on the situation. By the time they were finished, Neville's face was white, but determined.

"So you see, we have to get the Stone before Snape does and tries to revive Voldemort" – Neville shuddered – "with it."

"I'll meet you two there," he said, his voice quaking. "I've gotta put Roverta back in her enclosure."

"Roverta, huh?

"Yeah, it's Trevor backwards, with an 'a' on the end. 'Cause it's a girl, yeah?"

Hermione looked impressed. "Wow, Neville"

The boy beamed.

* * *

Less than an hour later, the three were standing in front of the door to the third-floor corridor. The door was slightly ajar. Throwing caution against the wind, Chris stuck his head in the door, then withdrew it.

"Fluffy's sleeping. Looks like Snape's already been here; there's a harp playing."

Cautiously, the three sneaked in, where indeed, Fluffy was out cold, all three heads snoring in tandem. A huge harp sat nearby, enchanted to play a beautiful song.

Between the three of them, they managed to move the paw that was lying over the trapdoor and opened it. All they could see was darkness, extending for what seemed like forever.

"So…who wants to go down the creepy shaft in the floor first?" Chris quipped.

Neville blinked.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Sarcasm, Neville. Sarcasm."

"Oh."

Chris frowned. "Wait a second…do you hear anything?"

The children froze. The harp had suddenly stopped playing and Fluffy was starting to wake up, yawning.

"Jump!" yelled Chris, shoving Hermione and Neville into the hole and jumping in himself just before Fluffy noticed the juicy piece of meat standing right under his noses.

They fell and Chris had just enough time to register that there was indeed something on the other end before he landed on something soft.

"What are we on?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," replied Hermione. "Some kind of big plant."

Neville, however, was staring at the plant in shock. "It's Devil's Snare!" he yelled.

This was confirmed when the plant began wrapping tendrils around their legs.

"Don't panic!" yelled Neville. The plant had begun wrapping around his torso. "Fighting it will only kill you faster!"

"Thanks, Neville, that's really helpful!" snapped Chris. "What will get it to let go of us?"

"They hate light, warmth, anything with heat!"

"Right then! On three! One…two…three!"

In unison, three voices shouted "_Lumos_ _Solem_!"

The brilliant flash of simulated sunshine from the three wands caused the plant to cringe and release its prisoners. They dropped through to the ground below, landing rather roughly on their backsides.

"_Oww_," groaned Neville, rubbing his backside. "I think I broke my tailbone."

"If Voldemort's at the other end, a broken tailbone is going to be the least of our worries," said Chris, lighting his wand with a normal _Lumos _Charm. He squinted through the brightness. "There's a stone passageway ahead. Can't go back, and only one way forward. So…onward!"

He bounced forward, Hermione and Neville following in his wake.

They walked for what seemed forever down the dank passageway, their footsteps echoing loudly. Water dripped steadily down the walls and onto the floor, making them almost slip a few times.

Suddenly, Chris stopped, causing Hermione and Neville to run into him.

"Do you hear that?"

From up ahead, there was a soft rushing and clinking. It almost sounded like a ghost, yet still solid matter.

"Look, there's a light ahead!" said Neville, pointing a pudgy finger in the direction of a shaft of light some twenty feet ahead. Shadows darted across it occasionally, confirming its solid origins.

"Wands at the ready," whispered Chris, bringing the lit tip to bear. The other two followed suit.

They reached the end of the passageway and stepped into a large, impossibly brilliantly-lit room. Above them, quite high, were sparkling things, catching the "sun" occasionally with brilliant reflections. Opposite the children was a heavy, wooden door.

"What are they?" whispered Hermione, putting her wand out, followed by Neville, though both kept them in their hands.

"I don't know," said Chris, frowning, as he did the same. "Whatever they are, they aren't here just for decoration."

Boldly, he walked across the room, as if daring the things to attack him. But they didn't and he made it across to the other side. Emboldened, Hermione and Neville ran across to join him.

They spent several precious minutes trying to figure out how to open the door. Even _Alohomora_ didn't work.

"Now what?" asked Neville.

They squinted up, trying to see through the false sunlight, at the glittering things. Wait…_glittering_?

"They're keys!" exclaimed Chris. "Winged keys!" He looked around the chamber while the other two squinted up at the flock of keys. "Look! Broomsticks! The challenge must be to catch the right key!"

"But there are hundreds!" exclaimed Hermione. "Which one's the correct one?"

Neville examined the lock. "The lock's silver, so the key probably is too. Old-fashioned, too, judging by the size."

Chris grabbed up a broom and immediately felt it come to life in his hands. For a second, he felt one with the broom and, ignoring the cries of Hermione and Neville, took off.

Thrilled, he twisted and turned the old broom, weaving between keys, searching for the right one. They darted and dived so quickly it was almost impossible to catch one.

_Almost_, being the key word.

As Chris searched for the key, his eyes became keen, studying each key as he passed. His hidden Potter blood sang in joy at the feeling of being in the air, thrumming with each turn.

On the ground, Neville and Hermione stared in awe as Chris flew dangerously close to the walls, then almost professionally turned, searching for the key.

"Are you sure he failed broom lessons?" asked Neville.

"P-positive," stuttered Hermione. "The broom wouldn't even go into his hand!"

But he wasn't now. He spotted the large key, one wing bent, like it had already been caught once. _Really stupid_, thought Chris, as he gained on it. _I would've taken it with me_.

He stretched out and nearly caught the key. Probably not wanting to suffer a second catching, the key darted downward and Chris followed, directing the key toward Neville and Hermione. Neville ducked, but Hermione reached up and, as the key passed, she snatched it out of the air and ran to unlock the door while Chris landed.

Dazed, the dark-haired boy could only say, "What a rush!"

The door opened and for a second, there was complete darkness. As Hermione stepped forward, the room lit up, revealing a huge chessboard. As they stepped forward, Chris used his broom to brace the door open before letting go. It was a good thing, because the door tried to shut, then jammed on the old but sturdy oak handle.

"Anyone good at chess?" said Neville.

"No," said Chris, wincing at his mother's continuous flattening every time they played.

"Not particularly," said Hermione. "I'm more of a Monopoly person."

Chris frowned at the board, then stepped on the edge. He tried walking across, but the pawns blocked his progress to the door opposite the one they had come through. Backing up, he went back to the other two.

"It looks like we have to play our way across," said Hermione, her voice dropping.

Chris glanced at the broom, then grinned. "Maybe not. Here–"

He opened the door again. "I saw two other brooms over there. Maybe we can fly over it."

Hermione and Neville ran back into the key room and came back with the brooms. The key took the opportunity to escape and disappeared back into the mass of keys. Chris mounted his, letting the door shut and relock itself. Oh, well.

"No need to rush, just push up enough to clear the board and tilt forward slightly. The broom will do the rest."

"How do you know what to do with a broom?" demanded Hermione, trying to keep hers steady. "You acted like you didn't know how to handle one back during lessons, yet you just handled that broom like you've been on it your entire life! Not to mention, I've read about professionals who never tried maneuvers like that for the very simple reason that they're supposed to be impossible!"

Chris winced. This must've been what his mother had talked about, as far as someone recognizing the style. According to books he had read on the Potter family, some of his ancestors had invented and proven a few of the world's most dangerous Quidditch moves.

"Well," he hedged, "I had an accident when I was young and my mum nearly had a heart attack. I promised her I wouldn't get on another broom, especially when I got to Hogwarts. She's gonna kill me when she finds out what I just did."

"Um, don't you think she'll kill you when she finds out the _whole_ story?" asked Neville, trying to keep his broom level.

"Look, don't you think the issue of the bad guy at the end of the tunnel is a _little_ bit more pressing?"

"He's right," piped up Neville, blushing. He had spoken more to the two Ravenclaws since they had come through the trapdoor than in the past year. "The more time we spend here, the more time Snape has to get the Stone."

"Speaking of which," said Chris, nodding, "we've reached the other side."

Wide-eyed, Hermione and Neville looked down. They had gone above the chessboard, avoiding triggering the pieces and were now landing gently on the other side next to the door.

Well, almost.

As they lowered the brooms, Neville's broom's tail brushed the tail of the opposing knight's horse. The knight immediately came to life and swung his ball and chain around, slamming into the broom and sending the broom careening into the wall. Neville's head hit the wall with a resounding crack and he landed hard on the ground. There was no movement, not even a groan.

"Neville!" screamed Hermione. She jumped off the broom the last two feet and rushed to Neville's side, feeling for a pulse. She sighed when she felt it, strong and steady, under her fingertips. "He's unconscious, but alive."

Chris sighed in relief. The events had happened so fast there had not been any time to react. One second, Neville was in the air, the next on the ground. But there wasn't time to go get help. They had to go forward.

"Hermione, we have to go on," he said. "Neville'll be fine. He'll probably wake up with a huge headache, but otherwise fine." He faced the door. "So…what d'you think's next?"

"Well, we've had the Devil's Snare, that must've been Professor Sprout's," said Hermione nervously, still watching Neville. The Gryffindor groaned a little.

"Professor Flitwick must've charmed the keys and Professor McGonagall the Chessmen," murmured Chris. "That leaves Professor Quirrell's defense and Snape's – whatever it is."

The door was not locked. Chris pushed it open, only to be greeted with a horrendous smell. Through his tearing eyes, Chris saw a troll unconscious on the floor, a bloody lump on its head, an equally bloody club beside it.

"Well, I'll give points to Snape for doing that for us," said Chris, his voice muffled by his robe. Behind him, Hermione gagged on her vomit, but swallowed it down.

They hurried through to the next door. There was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Okay, I'll bite," said Chris, stepping over the threshold, Hermione right behind him.

Immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onward. They were trapped.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. Chris looked over her shoulder to read it:

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,  
Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,  
One among us seven will let you move ahead,  
Another will transport the drinker back instead,  
Two of our number hold only nettled wine,  
Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line.  
Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore,  
To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:  
First, however slyly the poison tried to hide  
You will always find some on nettles wine's left side;  
Second, different are those who stand at either end,  
But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;  
Third, as you see clearly, are all different size,  
Neither dwarf or giant holds death in their insides;  
Fourth, the second left and the second on the right  
Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

"It's a logic puzzle," said Chris, frowning.

Hermione grinned back. "Don't you see? A logic puzzle is perfect! Most wizards don't bother with logic; why, when magic seems to solve every problem in your way?"

"Hm, true. So…how do we know which one to drink?"

She stared at the parchment. "Give me a minute."

She started walking back and forth, glancing at the parchment and pointing at them. Indeed, a minute later, she faced him again.

"Got it. The smallest will get us through the black fire – toward the Stone."

Chris squinted at the tiny bottle. "Um, I don't think there's gonna be enough for the both of us." He examined the rest. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?"

She pointed at a round bottle at the right end of the line. He sucked in his breath.

"Okay, this is going to sound like a foolish Gryffindor thing, but I need you to drink that bottle – no, _listen_" – for Hermione had opened her mouth to argue – "drink that bottle, get back through and take Neville to the Hospital Wing. Take the brooms past the trapdoor and Fluffy. Then, as much as I hate to say it, get Dumbledore. I don't know how long I can fend off Snape, but it won't be long."

He shoved the bottle into her hands and pushed her toward the purple fire. She had just enough time to swallow the potion, shivering as it activated in her system, before she was pushed through by Chris.

"Well, here goes," he said, muttering to himself. He picked up the smallest bottle and drained it, making a face at the tart taste and the feeling of liquid ice in his veins. He stepped forward through the fire, into the last chapter.

Just as he had predicted, there was already someone there – but it wasn't Snape. Or even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

Chris had the sudden urge to burst out laughing. Too late, he was practically rolling on the ground, tears of laughter running down his face.

"You?" he laughed, clutching his stomach. "_You_?"

"Yes, Evans, me," said Quirrell, irritated. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, I just lost a bet, that's all. I was so dead set that I'd find Professor Snape down here…well…"

"Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

"Well, you certainly had me fooled," said Chris blithely. "I just thought you never went to your therapy sessions. For the stuttering. The Muggles make medication for that, you know. Ah, well."

This threw Quirrell for a loop. Why wasn't the boy afraid? Recovering himself, he snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thing air and wrapped themselves tightly around Chris.

"Regardless of your suspicions, I cannot let you live, Evans. Not when I'm so close to success."

Behind Quirrell, Chris could see a large mirror. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

"Huh," said Chris, cocking his head. "What's this, then?"

"This, Evans," said Quirrell, a little snappy now, "is the Mirror of Erised. The Stone is hidden inside." He walked around it, tapping the frame. "But how to get it?"

The first thing that came to Chris's mind was _Distract him_.

So, Chris began humming. Because, as everyone knows, the more you sing an annoying song, the more mistakes the enemy makes. He started out softly.

"I know a song that gets on Voldemort's nerves, on Voldemort's nerves, on Voldemort's nerves. I know a song that gets on Voldemort's nerves and this is how it goes."

Quirrell stood stock still, his complexion whitening.

"I know a song that gets on Voldemort's nerves, on Voldemort's nerves, on Voldemort's nerves. I know a song that gets on Voldemort's nerves and this is how it goes."

Where before the reflection was presenting the Stone to his master, now it was of him stuffing earplugs in his ears and running away. Curious…

"I know a song that gets on Voldemort's nerves, on Voldemort's nerves–"

"ENOUGH!" shouted Quirrell, making Chris stop mid-song.

"Hey, you could've let me finish the verse!" said Chris mock-angrily. "I mean, really, didn't your mom teach you any manners. Oh, right, she died giving birth to your ungrateful self. The least you could've done is gotten yourself a cat and named her after your mother. Then you'd really be a bad guy. Instead, what do you get? A snake. I mean, when was the last time you saw a stereotypical bad guy stroking a _snake_?"

By now, Quirrell could feel the anger gushing from Voldemort. This brat was riling him up, big time.

"Take _Austin Powers_, for example. Not the man, the movie. The bad guy, Dr. Evil, he didn't have a snake, that would've been creepy. Never mind the cryopreservation thing that stripped the cat of all its fur. What was its name? Biggle – Biggles – Biggies – aw, it'll come to me later. Mom didn't want me watching the movie, but I found a way to split the neighbor's satellite reception to my TV. _Ooh_, you should've heard his wife when the bill came in, she was _not_ amused."

"SHUT UP!"

Chris snapped his jaw shut as a _very_ different, _very_ ticked off voice shouted its immense displeasure.

"Chris Evans," it continued, its voice silky smooth. It seemed to be coming from Quirrell, but the DADA professor wasn't moving his mouth.

"Yeah, and you would be the creep who decided the snake look was in," Chris responded casually. "Really, the back of Quirrell's head? Could you sink no lower?"

Voldemort ignored the jabs. "Help me get the Stone from the mirror and I can promise you whatever your heart desires."

"I don't think that would work. You see, the only thing my heart desires is to see you truly vanquished. In order to fulfill my wish, you'd have to self-destruct. See the problem?"

"Is it really?" said Voldemort. "Look in the mirror, Evans, and tell me what you see."

Quirrell waved his hand and the ropes dissolved into thin air. Rubbing his hands as blood rushed back into them, Chris stood before the mirror and had to fight to breathe.

For in the mirror were his birth parents, Lily and James Potter. They were smiling at him. His reflection, Chris noted, was actually him, but with emerald-green eyes instead of the sapphire blue he currently had. His face was structured differently, so that he appeared to be a clone of James Potter. To the left side of the mirror, Chris caught a glimpse of red hair before it disappeared out of frame. He returned his attention to himself. The almost-mirror version of him smiled before reaching into his pocket and taking out a fist-size, ruby red rock. With a wink, he put the Stone back in his pocket. Chris suddenly felt a weight in his right-pocket.

Somehow, he had gotten the Stone.

"Well, what do you see?" asked Voldemort softly.

"I see myself eating dinner up in the Great Hall. I guess the old saying's true. 'The way to a man's heart is through his stomach.'"

This time, Quirrell cursed.

"Really, didn't your mother teach you not to say naughty words? Honestly." He started walking away. Maybe he could get away before they realized he had the Stone. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm missing dinner up in the Great Hall."

He turned to leave, but the entrance suddenly went up in flames. Soon, they were surrounded by a ring of fire preventing his escape.

"Well that's not good," he had time to mutter before he was hit by a Stunner from behind.

Stunned, he could not help but watch as Quirrell approached him. Gathering what energy he could, he reached out and punched the man.

With a howl, Quirrell recoiled back, clutching his nose as dark blood dripped from it. When he removed his hand, though, Chris had to gasp.

Where before Quirrell had had a nose, not much of one, but a nose, there was now nothing there but the bone underneath, the cartilage appearing to have been burned off. With a roar of outrage, Quirrell reached up and snatched the turban off.

His head seemed to be much smaller without it. Turning on the spot, still dripping blood, Chris saw the remains of Voldemort's soul.

"What magic is this?" hissed Voldemort, "to cause this type of damage? Perhaps you are a Dark wizard, Evans, hm? Join me and together, we can rule this planet!"

Chris snorted. "For a wizard who hates Muggles, you sure seem to use a lot of their sayings. At least I _know_ I'm not your son."

Voldemort roared and, turning back around, lunged at Chris, latching Quirrell's hands onto Chris's throat. Chris choked, desperately wanting the Dark Wizard to _let_ _go_…

Another roar, this one of pain, and Chris watched in amazement as Quirrell's hands dissolved into dust before his very eyes. Somehow knowing what to do, Chris jumped up and grabbed Quirrell's face with his hands. The former DADA professor howled as his skull suddenly began dissolving into dust, working inwards from skin to muscle to bone to brain matter. He collapsed on the ground, his whole body now turned to dust.

As Chris fell into unconsciousness, his last thought was of hearing a rough male voice bark, "_EVANS_!"

* * *

16 pages on MS Word total. I hope y'all are happy. Me? I'm gonna go back and play some more on Wizard101 after I post this. Look for me there under "Jennifer Silverblood."

Roverta: You would not believe this, but as I wrote that part, we did indeed sort of "adopt" a toad that had decided to make our home her home. She has a mate we named Trevor that also likes to come in the house, no matter how many times we tell him no. My sister came up with the idea of reversing the name and adding an "a," because she's a female.

On the Yahoo Group: I am going to temporarily take down the barrier requiring approval before joining. This is so you can do it yourself, since roughly half of my reviewers do not have their e-mail addresses in their profiles and thus cannot be sent an e-mail. This will also help me deal with a month plus of backwork on sending invites. I only request that when you join that you put your name and profile link in the reviewer profile link folder. If you have changed your penname, please change it in the same folder if you can. If you can't, send me an e-mail and I will change it for you. I will put the barrier back up on June 1st, so get yourself secured in the Group before then. Remember: Group members get first read! It may be as much as two days before a chapter gets posted here instead of at Yahoo.

Reviews: I am backlogged quite a bit. Please, once you are a member of the group, post or repost your questions there. This way, I can respond and everyone can see and I don't get any wires crossed. I do read the reviews and occasionally twist the chapters in a better direction than I had because of those suggestions.

Reward: Um, how about some Mirror of Erised cookies? Not the best reward, I'm sure, but we're almost at the end of the year now.

Last chapter of Year 1: I will be continuing Year 2 with this story instead of creating a new one. The next chapter, however, will be the last chapter of Year 1. It will have several shifting points of view, so be prepared.

Extra Folder: Members may have noticed a special folder with some special documents in it. I am working on getting the whole set, so please be patient.

So, please, read, review, and I hope to get the next chapter posted sometime in the next week or so, depending on how hard it is to write. Regular updates should resume after that point, considering I'm thinking of leaving Year One on a dramatic note and I _so_ don't want to be pelted with rotten tomatoes.

Thanks a bunch!

-MM


	12. Chapter 12

Finally, the end of the year! I know many of you are just about to get out of school for the year and in honor of that, I have posted this chapter today. Those that are members of the Yahoo group know that this was uploaded last night.

I shall not talk anymore. You have a chapter to read. I'll just slip off to my Secret Place.

* * *

Chapter XII: Answers Questioned

The sound of the oak front doors slamming open made many students jump as an unknown woman strode through their presence. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the Entrance Hall and up the stairs. Those that stood in the way quickly moved aside, for fear that they would find themselves forcibly removed from the stranger's way as her very aura impressed on them all of an oncoming storm.

They pitied the fool _she_ was after.

Up one staircase, up another, only pausing long enough for one staircase to lock into place, she strode right to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office.

"Chocolate Frog," she said shortly.

The gargoyle jumped to the side, granting her entrance.

As she neared the top, she heard Dumbledore's voice. Not even waiting for permission, she opened the door. Severus Snape was also in the office and turned at the sudden intrusion. She was young by wizard standards, probably in her thirties, quite attractive, with blonde hair and dark blue eyes that promised an argument to anyone who dare get in her way.

"Albus Dumbledore, I presume?" she said dryly.

"Yes, to whom am I speaking?" asked Dumbledore warily. This was the first time anyone had successfully barged into his office without his knowledge.

"Rose Evans. My son, Chris, is lying up in your hospital wing, unconscious."

"Ah, Mrs. Evans, of course. Lemon Drop?"

"_Ms_. Evans, if you don't mind. And no, thank you."

Dumbledore frowned slightly, but tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Ms. Evans, then. This is our Potions teacher, Professor Severus Snape."

Rose nodded at Snape, making contact with his obsidian eyes for a moment. "Professor."

Snape tilted his head, his expression unreadable.

"Professor Snape was just leaving to finish grading this year's essays," said Dumbledore. "And I for the hospital wing. Would you care to join me?"

She nodded curtly, her mouth frozen in a straight line.

"Excellent!"

The three of them left the office, Snape striding away as soon as he stepped off the magical escalator, his cloak billowing behind him.

"Now," said Dumbledore, walking at a medium pace toward the Hospital Wing, "I believe I should apprise you of the situation. Young Mr. Evans decided to drag two of his schoolmates along on an extremely dangerous jaunt. Mr. Longbottom is currently recovering from a concussion, while Mr. Evans remains in a coma. Still, Madam Pomfrey, our school nurse, is remaining positive. It has only been three days, after all.

"As for the circumstances that put him in that condition, Mr. Evans is quite lucky that Professor Snape showed up and rescued him from his foolhardiness."

"Excuse me, you said Professor Snape saved Chris's life?"

"Yes, that is what Professor Snape said. He arrived just in time to see Quirrell attack Mr. Evans, and cast the curse that expelled Voldemort from poor Quirrell's body, thus ending what remained of Quirrell's body."

Rose raised an eyebrow, but did not push the issue.

"As it stands, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor will, of course, both lose points for these reckless endeavors."

"I do not think that to be a wise decision, Headmaster."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what would you suggest? Rewarding them for their behavior?"

Rose smiled coldly. "No, I am merely suggesting that by punishing these students, you will also have to reveal the events that led to those punishments, including that you knowingly allowed Voldemort to teach a school full of children for an entire year."

"You imply that I did not know–"

"I am not implying. I am saying. You knew Quirrell was a clear and present danger to the safety of the school, yet you did nothing about him. If anything, you encouraged Voldemort to stay here with the promise of a regenerated body through the Sorcerer's Stone. A promise that, thankfully, did not bear fruit."

Inside, Dumbledore was livid. How did this young woman know everything he was thinking? It was if she had orchestrated it herself!

"But don't worry, _Headmaster_. I do not intend on making this public unless my hand is forced."

And with that, Rose left Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the hospital wing, where Pomfrey was checking on Chris.

"How is he?" she addressed Madam Pomfrey.

The matron sighed. "Whatever curse Quirrell hit him with drained his magical core. Until his core is brought back up, he will be in this self-induced healing coma."

"Can you project how much longer he'll be under?"

Pomfrey shrugged. "Anytime between now and next week."

Rose nodded. "Thank you." She handed the matron a small blue gem, about the size of a thimble. "If he wakes before I get back, squeeze this tightly."

On her way out, she whispered to Dumbledore, "And don't even think of reading his mind."

And she strode out, leaving Dumbledore to reflect on the mystery that was Rose Evans.

* * *

In his office, Snape struggled valiantly to finish grading a particularly tedious third-year's essay on poisons, but his mind kept straying to Rose Evans.

When the woman had met his eyes, she had seemed to pierce through his very soul. Only two people had ever been able to do that: Albus Dumbledore and Lily Evans. It was as if she knew every detail of his life, just from a glance.

He sighed and bent over the essay once more, but it was just lines of black ink in his mind. Rather like the dozen letters filled with apologies he had sent Lily the summer following the Mudblood Incident that had returned unopened.

A memory surfaced, unbidden and unwanted.

"_I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."_

With a sudden roar of rage, he picked up and threw a bottle of red ink at the nearest wall with all his strength. The glass smashed into tiny bits, the shiny liquid running down the wall, like blood, like the very core of his shattered, tortured soul.

* * *

Her heart was hammering. It was a miracle that she had shocked Dumbledore so that she could complete her now multi-fold mission. Originally, she was just going to chew out Dumbledore and check on her son, but really, the opportunity for more was just dangling before her, tempting her to reach out and grab it. She could only hope it wouldn't come back to bite her.

Swiftly, she walked up more stairways until she came to a blank stretch of wall opposite an enormous tapestry with a wizard and several trolls in tutus. She walked back and forth three times, until a door appeared on the blank stretch of wall. Quickly entering and closing the door, she looked up. And up.

All around her were objects ranging from books to furniture to empty potion bottles. The mess extended outward for what seemed like forever. Stepping carefully through the mess, she started her search. Finally, after half an hour of searching, she found what she was looking for. She smiled at the irony.

"'_Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure_.'"

Taking care not to touch the tiara, she murmured, "_Wingardium_ _Leviosa_."

It floated from its position of safety for the past forty years or so into an open mokeskin pouch that shrank back down when the tiara was wholly inside.

Satisfied, she went to leave, then noticed a huge cabinet. Drawing her wand, she muttered a shrinking spell. It did not shrink. She sighed before muttering "_Confringo_."

_Such a waste_, she thought as the cabinet broke into millions of pieces.

She left for the next part of her mission, taking care to look both ways before emerging back onto the corridor.

Now it was the opposite direction. Keeping to the shadows, she finally found her next destination.

"Ooh, who goes there?" said a depressed voice. A ghost of a young girl popped out from a stall. "Who are you? I've never seen you before."

"And hopefully never will again, Myrtle," said Rose. She turned her attention to the sinks. Finding the one she wanted, she hissed, '_Open_.'

The sink in question slide obediently back, revealing a huge hole in the floor.

'_Stairs_.'

Instantly, stone stairs pushed out from the tunnel in a winding pattern. Clean of muck and grime, she was able to walk all the way down without slipping.

At the bottom, she grimaced at the small animal skeletons, still dizzy from walking down in circles.

"_Evanesco_."

The bones disappeared, along with most of the slime covering the floor. Taking care to not get filthy, she walked on, occasionally casting the Cleaning Charm as she went. Reaching a great seal, she again muttered '_Open_.' A snake wound around the border, releasing the locking mechanism.

She was standing at the end of a very long, dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd, greenish gloom that filled the place. Every careful footstep echoed loudly off the shadowy walls. The hollow eye sockets of the stone snakes seemed to be following her and might have even stirred at the sudden appearance of a magical being after fifty years of solitude.

At the end was a huge marble face: it was ancient and monkeyish, with a long thin beard that gracefully spread over the floor.

This was the Chamber of Secrets.

And inside the mouth of Salazar Slytherin was a monster waiting to be unleashed.

* * *

In the hospital wing, Chris slowly came to. His first thought was–

"The Stone!" he gasped.

"Relax, dear boy, the Stone has been destroyed," said a calm voice. Chris turned to see Dumbledore sitting in an armchair beside his bed.

"It has?"

"Yes."

"What about the Flamels?"

Dumbledore smiled. "They were glad to hear that Voldemort did not get the Stone. They have enough Elixir to set their affairs in order."

"But – doesn't that mean they'll die?"

"Yes, but to them, it'll be merely going to sleep and not waking up. And they are ready to move on."

"I – I understand, sir."

"Now, as you can see, your friends have sent you some get-well-soon gifts."

Sure enough, on the table were a few boxes of sweets, mostly from Draco. Chris supposed this was the blonde's way of making up for abandoning him. Then again, Draco _had_ been right.

"I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madame Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

As if on cue, Pomfrey stuck her head out and, noticing that Chris was awake, gave the stone a little squeeze. Barely had she released her grip than Rose appeared from nowhere.

"Mum!"

Chris unsteadily jumped out of the bed. Rose caught him before he hit the floor.

"Mr. Evans!" shouted Madam Pomfrey, waving her wand at him. "Get back in bed! Your magical core has been severely drained!" Her eyes widened. "This can't be possible! Your core is already back up to thirty percent!"

"Must be something about your presence that's healing, Mum," said Chris cheekily, clambering back into bed. "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

Chris shrugged. "I was unconscious longer when I decided to steal Mum's broom when I was six and fly around the yard. Ended up crashing into the big alder tree. I _still_ have a dent from the fall."

He rubbed the spot, wincing at the memory.

"I shall leave you two alone," said Dumbledore, and without another word, swept out of the hospital wing.

"I will be in my office if you need me," said Madam Pomfrey quietly, then left as well.

Rose drew her wand and cast a few spells silently that would ensure that no one could listen in on their conversation. Then she focused on her son, who shrank back into the bed.

"What on earth possessed you to act like a Gryffindor?" she hissed out. "You could've been killed!"

Chris sighed, twisting the sheets. "I'm sorry, Mum, but there wasn't enough time. I tried to get Professor McGonagall to help but she said the Stone was safe."

Rose pinched her nose. "What is this I hear about Professor Snape saving your life?"

"Huh?"

"Professor Snape," she repeated, "says that he got there just in time to see Quirrell cast a spell on you, then cast one himself to expel Voldemort from Quirrell that turned the professor into dust."

"That wasn't him, that was me! Quirrell attacked me, but every time he touched me, that piece of skin turned to dust. I touched his face and he just…_dissolved_ into ashes."

Rose stared at him in shock.

"Is…was there something left over from…_that_ night?" he asked hesitantly.

She snapped out of it. "Of a sort. It would be best if we went along with the version Professor Snape presented, okay?"

Chris nodded. "I agree. I myself don't want everyone to know I can turn people to dust."

"Oh, not people, just Voldemort," she said casually. "He's pure evil," she added. "It was pure love that saved you that night, something completely opposite to him. And he can't stand it, can't bear its touch. He _cannot_ feel love," she stressed.

"So…I reckon slipping him an Amortentia Potion is out, then."

Rose chuckled. "Wouldn't that be ironic, driving Voldemort lovesick for…?"

Chris grinned. "I don't know. Maybe that ugly toad-like woman in the Ministry of Magic?"

She roared with laughter. "Can you imagine that? Delores Umbridge running through the Ministry with Voldemort on her heels, proclaiming his eternal love?"

"I don't know, she might like it. Only way a bloke _could_ love her!"

The two dissolved into tears of laughter.

* * *

In his office, Dumbledore frowned. The crystal ball he had installed in the Hospital Wing so that he could overhear conversations was not working. He could barely see the outlines of the people it was focused on, as if the ball had been struck by a Befuddlement Charm or a Notice-Me-Not Charm or _some_ kind of charm. This indicated that Rose Evans somehow knew that he kept a close eye on everyone. But who had told her?

He had checked the records of Hogwarts students for the last fifty years. The only Rose Evans to attend Hogwarts in that time frame had gone to school in the late sixties, and had died in the war against Voldemort. He had looked up the obituary himself.

Then again, he supposed, she could have faked her own death. It was possible to replicate a dead body using a Copy Charm, but it took very strong magic to do so.

He frowned as the image flickered, then died as the conversation ended and Rose left, while Chris settled back down to sleep some more.

* * *

The next day, Chris walked into the Farewell Feast with a light feeling in his heart. So far, he had not been assigned any punishment, and, if the way Dumbledore was avoiding him was any indication, might be let off as it was the end of the school year.

It had taken quite a bit of wheedling to convince Madam Pomfrey to go, with the promise he wouldn't cast any spells while he was still at Hogwarts. With a sniff, she had given in to the pitiful puppy-dog stare that seemed to work on everyone but Hermione.

The Great Hall was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

He plopped down between Hermione and Draco, the latter of which glanced up as he settled in. Feeling he had better get this over with, Chris apologized.

"All right, all right, you were right, I was wrong. Quirrell was the bad guy and Snape was the good guy. Okay?"

Draco hid a grin. "And next time?"

"And next time if I think he's involved, I'll _ask_ him first."

"Better."

Dumbledore chose that moment to stand and the loud babbling of students immediately ceased.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were...you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before the next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifteen; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and fifty-five; Gryffindor, with four hundred and thirty; and Slytherin with four hundred and seventy-two."

The Slytherin table roared its joy with having beaten Gryffindor yet again, though this time by a slight margin.

"Yes, yes, very good Slytherin. However, recent events must be taken into action and I have a few last minute point additions that must be made."

Chris's heart quickened. Surely the old man wasn't going to _reward_ them…

"First, to Miss Hermione Granger...for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Ravenclaw House fifty points."

Confused Ravenclaws clapped as Slytherins' faces dropped in horror.

"Second, to Mr. Chris Evans… for pure nerve, I award Ravenclaw House fifty points."

Loud whispers began to fly around the table as to why they were suddenly getting these points.

"Third, to Mr. Neville Longbottom…"

The Gryffindor slid down in his seat as the entire school focused on him, his cheeks as red as Weasley hair.

"For pure Gryffindor courage and loyalty to his friends, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."

There was a sudden roar as the Gryffindors realized that they had overtaken Slytherin.

"And finally, it takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award twenty-five points to Mr. Draco Malfoy of Ravenclaw."

Anyone outside the Great Hall, or indeed, in Hogsmeade, would have thought the school to have exploded as students realized that Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were tied for first place with four hundred and eighty points each.

"Which means we need a change of decoration," yelled Dumbledore over the din. He waved his hands and the green hangings suddenly alternated between scarlet and royal blue. The serpents vanished to be replaced by Gryffindor lions and Ravenclaw eagles.

Chris grinned at his friends as even Draco lost the pureblood posture and whooped gleefully with the rest of the table. Over at the Gryffindor table, Neville, glassy-eyed with shock, was still being pounded on the back for pulling Gryffindor into the lead at the last minute.

Chris made eye contact with Dumbledore for a split second. There was a resignation there, along with barely concealed curiosity, as though the man was itching to get inside his mind.

He looked away before Dumbledore could probe any more.

* * *

Exam results came two days before they left. To no one's surprise, Hermione had the best grades of the year, with Chris and Draco come in a close second and third. Even Neville had scraped through, his good Herbology mark balancing out his abysmal Potions one. Even with Hermione helping him, he still hadn't improved much with Snape hovering over his shoulder.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks packed to the brim; notes were passed out to the students warning them not to use magic over the holidays, which Chris promptly threw in the trash; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express, heading home; playing Dare with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as the countryside turned from wild to green; Hermione and Chris changing clothes to blend in with Muggles, while Draco would be Apparating home with his family; finally pulling into Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

Draco left first, finding his father and mother waiting for him. After they left, Chris and Hermione joined the line of students waiting to be let off the platform. A wizened old guard was at the brick barrier, letting students go in small groups so as not to alarm those on the other side with a massive influx of children from nowhere.

"Mom! Dad!" shouted Hermione as they stepped away from the barrier. The Grangers were standing about ten feet away with Rose, who turned at the shout.

"Hello, there, Hermione!" Rose said while the Muggleborn hugged her parents tightly. She pulled Chris into a tight hug. "Hello to you too."

"_Muum_," he whined, trying to pull out of the hug. He was turning a slight shade of red. She let go.

"Oh, fine, don't give your poor mother a hug."

"I saw you just last week," he said, straightening his shirt. "It's not like I went out in the Forbidden Forest sometime between then and now."

"Chris," said Carol. "Your mother and I were just talking about the possibility of you coming over sometime this summer for a sleepover."

Chris grinned. "I'd love to, ma'am. Have a great summer! I'll see you then!"

Hermione grinned back. "You too! I can't wait!"

They all left the station, quite glad to have reached the end of the school year and in eager anticipation for what laid ahead of them for the next.

**END OF YEAR ONE**

* * *

And we have reached the end of Year One. I know I have raised a lot of questions and caused a lot of head-scratching that will probably earn me a pelting with vegetables of questionable expiration dates. I am happy to report, however, that I have gotten my tribophysical waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator working and it is online. The force field it generates can hold back anything!

Nina: Well, almost anything.

Yes, well, I wasn't going to tell them that, thanks. (_Clears_ _throat_) Anyway, I hope to get the next chapter up and running. It will cover the summer between the two years and should fit all in together. I am still trying to decide if Dobby will appear.

In the meantime, I have included a preview of the next year's summary at the end. When I post the next chapter, the story summary itself will also be changed. I may go back here and there and edit a bit, but it won't be too noticeable, just a few grammatical mistakes and continuity errors, stuff of that nature.

To my reviewers, I give you…snitch-shaped birthday cakes! I turned 21 the other day! Yay! If you have not joined the Yahoo Group, it is still open until June 1st. It doesn't matter if you have Yahoo, Hotmail, AOL, whatever mail you have, it should work. On June 2nd, the defenses will be brought back up.

I leave you all for right now. Questions, comments, concerns, and corrections can all be posted at the Group.

–MM

* * *

_**In Plain Sight**_ Year 2 Arc Summary

AU Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts. Or has he? Between a boy claiming to be Harry Potter, a conceited DADA professor with more beauty charms than brains, and a spate of mysterious petrifications, can Chris keep his identity intact or will someone discover the truth?

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

I am so sorry. I had a really fun time writing this chapter and it was just so hard to let go.

Cassi: That and the fact that you're hooked on that Wizard101 game and have been playing that instead of typing up chapters that are stored in your brain.

Thanks. I appreciate that. Always the blunt one, she is.

Point being, here's the next chapter. I'd advise not drinking anything during this chapter, unless you like splashing your computer screen. And the reason for the differing punctuation is each computer has its own MS Word with slight differences.

Some have wanted computers to come into greater focus, since I have put this story in the 21st century. This first part, therefore, is dedicated to that.

Well, what are you waiting for? Go read!

* * *

_INTERLUDE_

Chapter XIII: Red Sky At Morning, Wizards take Warning

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am so glad Muggles invented the internet. I complained to Mum I was bored after I finished my work and she set me on another essay. You'd've thought I'd learned by now. This one is on the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692. I didn't realize how much effort went into separating wizards from Muggles. _

_If you have an e-mail address, maybe we could talk that way. It would be a lot faster than owl. _

_Chris_

* * *

_Chris,_

_I talked to Mum. She agreed, so long as she knows the password. I don't mind. _

_I've already created my account. The address is included at the bottom of the parchment. Such antiquated paper. I'm glad to have my "primitive" Muggle supplies back. Do you think I could be allowed to bring them to Hogwarts next year?_

_Hermione_

* * *

To:_hjgranger(at)  
_From:_cjevans(at)  
_Subject: Hi!

_Hermione,_

_Our first e-mail! Can you believe it? Now we can chat instantly! Wanna try?_

_BTW, I don't know if you can bring Muggle supplies to Hogwarts. We could always try._

_Chris_

* * *

To:_cjevans(at)  
_From:_hjgranger(at)  
_Subject: RE: Hi!

_Chris,_

_Already on. See you there._

_Hermione._

* * *

**WizardBoy: R u there?**

**MuggleWitch: Yep!**

**WizardBoy: This is cool!**

**MuggleWitch: I'd like to see wizards come up with something better than this.**

**WizardBoy: (**_**Snort**_**) You kidding? They wouldn't know how to turn a computer on, let alone send an e-mail.**

**(**_**MuggleWitch is typing something awesome**_**)**

**MuggleWitch: Can you imagine that? An entire web of communication that the purebloods aren't aware of? This could have come in very handy in the War against You-Know-Who.**

**WizardBoy: It's Voldemort. **

**MuggleWitch: :P**

**WizardBoy: :)**

"Chris! Will you please get away from that computer long enough to put your clothes up? They won't put themselves away, you know!"

"They could if you used magic to banish them up here!"

"I am not using magic to make things more convenient for you! Now get your butt down here now!"

Chris reluctantly typed in "**C u later, Mum's calling**," and signed off. Closing the lid on his relatively new laptop, he stretched, hearing his back pop. Relieved, he got up and went downstairs and retrieved his laundry. When he returned, he just about dropped the basket.

There, warily poking his laptop, was a very strange creature dressed in what appeared to be a pillowcase. He had never seen one in person, only read about them in some old books his Mum had.

"Okay, I'll bite."

The creature jerked its hand away from the laptop like it had burned him and focused on him.

"Chris Evans," it breathed.

"Yeah, and you are?"

"Dobby, sir. Dobby the house-elf."

"Okay, Dobby, why are you here in my room? And how do you know my name and how to get past the wards?"

"House-elf magic is different than wizard-magic, sir. Dobby can go through wards that wizards can't."

"You still haven't answered how you know me."

The house-elf hung his head. "My – my master speaks of you, how you met and survived You-Know-Who a few weeks ago."

"You mean Voldemort, right?" said Chris dryly.

The elf shuddered, twisting his ears. "Not his name, sir, not his name!"

Chris rolled his eyes. Honestly, you'd think, the way wizards reacting to the word, that Voldemort would jump out of the shadows and shout "Boo" every time.

"Stop that," he ordered. The elf immediately ceased his self-abuse. "Look, I don't know what you've heard about me, but…I'm pretty sure it was just hear-say. I'm not a hero."

"But…" The house-elf appeared lost. "But…"

"Now, either state your reason for being here or go back home before _either_ of us gets in trouble."

"Chris Evans is worried for a lowly house-elf!" wailed Dobby. "Dobby has never met a wizard that treated a house-elf like…that _cared_ for a house-elf!"

"Oy vey," muttered Chris, pinching his nose as Dobby continued to blubber his gratitude. "Dobby. Dobby!"

The creature finally ceased.

"Either talk or leave! Please!"

Dobby hiccupped. "Dobby came to warn Master's friend not to go to Hogwarts this year!"

"Master's friend? Who...Draco?" The blonde was the only person that Chris could think of at the moment who would have a house-elf.

The elf wailed, confirming Chris's thoughts. "Dobby has betrayed Masters! Dobby will have to punish himself!"

Dobby looked around, and, spotting Chris's lamp, grabbed it and began beating himself upside the head.

"No!" shouted Chris, yanking the lamp away from the distraught house-elf, who, by now, had gone cross-eyed. If Dobby hadn't suffered brain damage before, he most certainly had now. The creature was now swaying unsteadily on his feet and a large dark green bruise was rapidly spreading on his bald head.

"Look," said Chris, breathing heavily, "I'll be fine. I hate to admit it, but I'd probably be safer at Hogwarts than here. Voldemort" – a wail – "isn't in the best of shape right now and won't be for quite a while. I highly doubt he will try to attack Hogwarts this year."

"But, Chris Evans–"

"How about this? If I feel I am in immediate danger at Hogwarts, I will leave, even if it is the moment I walk in the door. Fair enough?"

The house-elf squinted at him, but could not argue. With a bitter, tear-filled look, Dobby disappeared with a resounding _CRACK_!

Letting out a breath he didn't even know he had been holding, Chris got to work putting away his laundry.

* * *

About a week after the House-Elf Incident, as Chris had taken to calling it in his head, was the sleepover with the Grangers. Their house was a modest Muggle place, nothing at all to suggest that their almost thirteen-year old daughter attended a magical school for witches and wizards. Chris had decided to bring along several magical books for Hermione to read so the girl could learn more about the world most Wizard-born took for granted.

He had just finished putting in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _when he heard the incoming Portkey Alert ring. It had been charmed to play one of his mother's favorite classic pieces, Beethoven's _Ode to Joy_, in every room unless she decided otherwise.

About the same time Chris skidded into the living room with his magically expanded overnight bag, Alan Granger appeared in the middle of it, slightly dazed, but still gripping an old sock, a temporary Portkey only good for one round trip.

"Hi, Mr. Granger! Where's Hermione?"

"Oh, she and Carol are finishing up at the house. I volunteered to come get you." The faintly tinted green look on the man's face suggested that he would never volunteer for such a job again. "Where's your mom?"

About that time, Rose walked in. She was dressed in a black robe, not her usual Muggle clothing.

"I have to make a run in the Wizarding world," she said in a brisk tone. "We're out of a few potion supplies and I need to get some stain removal potions anyway. His school robes are charmed against bleach and Muggle detergents," she added to Alan. "Hermione's probably are too. If you want, I'll wash hers so all the stains are out before the year starts up again."

"Thank you very much, Rose," said Alan. "Carol's been wondering why the stains on her robes wouldn't come out. She used up a whole container of detergent on them."

"Do you have everything?" she asked Chris.

"Right here!" he replied, hefting the bag. It banged as some of the stuff in it rolled around. He winced. "Sounds like the books fell over."

"Fell over? How many books did you put in there?"

"A couple," he muttered. _Of dozen_, he completed in his head.

Rose rolled her eyes. "Better get moving, temporary Portkeys don't have a long shelf life."

With a cheeky grin, Chris grabbed hold of the sock just as Alan muttered, "Activate." With a pop, the two disappeared.

Rose's grin faded. Now it was time to get to business.

* * *

In another place, a person appeared out of nowhere in front of a well-to-do home. It was obvious by the front that it was owned by either a bachelor or a widower. There was not a woman's touch anywhere. Perfectly mowed, not a vine on the house, and no flowers welcoming visitors.

Fishing around in her little beaded bag, she found what she was looking for and knocked on the door.

An older man, looking about in his late-fifties, answered the door. He was surprised to see a middle-aged, nondescript woman with brown hair and brown eyes standing at his doorstop.

"Yes?"

She smiled. "Good evening, Mr. Crouch. My name is Wanda Detroit. I'm with the _Daily Prophet _and I'd like to ask you a few questions." She showed him a piece of paper identifying her as a freelance reporter for said newspaper. "See, my boss has decided that we need to profile high-ranking members of the Ministry of Magic and stir the cauldron a bit, see who would be willing to support Minister Fudge for re-election."

"Elections will not be held for another year," Crouch said shortly. Behind him, a house-elf twisted her hands nervously at the visitor. "I do not see the logic in the _Daily Prophet _choosing to do the interviews so early."

She smiled indulgently. "That's what I said too. But you know these newspaper editors. Once they sink their teeth into something, they won't let go. And that includes my tail if I come back empty-handed."

With a sigh, Crouch waved his hand to allow the woman entrance to his home.

"Winky, bring us a pot of tea and make sure that everything remains the same. Understood?"

The house-elf nodded, squeaking, "Yes, Master!" before disappearing. She reappeared a moment later in the foyer with a piping hot pot of tea and two cups. Wanda was already waiting with a pad of paper and ink pen in her hands. He raised his eyebrows at the Muggle tools, but said nothing.

"Now, Mr. Crouch, what do you think of Minister Fudge?"

"He has kept the peace in the Wizarding Community for the last few years," he said shortly.

"Where you not once considered for the post yourself, Mr. Crouch?"

"I was."

"What happened?"

Crouch twitched. "After the fall of You-Know-Who, there were still many Death Eaters among the public. To my deepest shame, my own son was one of them. He was given up by a fellow Death Eater, in an effort to reduce his own prison time."

"What happened to him?"

"I did the only thing I could: I sent him to Azkaban."

Wanda gasped. "Your own son?"

He fixed her with a glare. "As soon as his name was uttered, he ceased to be my son. He died in Azkaban. Good riddance, I say!"

She leaned forward in her chair, suddenly smiling. "Is that so?"

From nowhere, she produced a six-inch knife. The handle was twisted with runes and the steel was a bluish-green when reflected in the light. Her wand quickly waved and an ethereal glow surrounded the house before fading. She stood, her grin mad.

"You see, the problem with your story is that you left out the bit where your wife still cared enough about him to die in his place."

She suddenly grabbed at thin air, revealing a young man aged by years in Azkaban. His eyes were glazed over with the effects of the Imperius Curse. In that same motion, she put the knife to his throat. The house-elf appeared from nowhere, wailing.

"Master! Young Master sneaked out! Winky only turned for a minute, then Young Master was gone!" She caught sight of the knife at Crouch Jr.'s throat and her expression darkened. "You will not harm Young Master!" she screeched.

The House-Elf gathered her magic in her hands and threw it at the witch. To everyone's surprise but the witch's, the magic suddenly absorbed into the knife, glowing with the stored energy before fading back.

"Tsk, tsk," she said, holding the knife closer to the young man's throat. "You see, my old mentor discovered that this particular knife is composed of a very special metal that, when set with the right runes, will absorb almost every bit of magic thrown at it without breaking. This is only one of two ever made, because, you see, there was only enough ore in the Earth's crust for that job. No more, no less. And he had the other."

"What is it you want?" Crouch said through gritted teeth.

"My demand is very simple: I want the release of Sirius Black from Azkaban."

Crouch stared at her. "Black confessed to the murders of the Potters over ten years ago! By now, he'd be insane anyway!"

The knife dug into the young man's throat. A thin trickle of blood trailed down his throat, but as he was not free to fight, he could do no more than stare blankly at his father.

"He only confessed because he believed that the mistake he made got the Potters killed."

"He admitted he was the Secret-Keeper!"

"He was. Until they decided to switch at the last moment to Peter Pettigrew."

Crouch snorted. "Pettigrew? The man was awarded an Order of Merlin for foolishly but bravely going after the Potters' murderer!"

"Only because Pettigrew had enough brains to frame an innocent man. If Sirius Black had had a trial, this would've been made public. As it stands, an innocent man was left to rot in Azkaban, while a guilty Death Eater roams free. And it is _your _fault."

He spluttered, losing his cool for the first time. "But someone would have spotted a supposedly dead hero! How do you suggest that he lived?"

"Peter Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus, Mr. Crouch. A rat, fittingly enough, seeing as how he betrayed the Potters and led Voldemort right to them."

The man shuddered, looking ready to start pulling his hair out by its roots. "And just how I am supposed to find one rat in the millions of rats living just in England alone, if not more?"

"Because, Mr. Crouch, I know _exactly_ where he is."

* * *

The next morning, when Rose picked up Chris from the Grangers' house, he couldn't stop talking as soon as they landed in their living room.

"And they had this device that when you pushed the buttons, it started cooking the food! I think I'll take Muggle Studies next year as an elective. It'll be really cool, learning all about Muggles!"

"I could set you another essay at home if you're so willing to study. Perhaps an essay on the current government and its relation to the monarchy?"

"Aw, _man_!"

* * *

He waited anxiously for the mail to come, pushing his eggs around on his plate. It was now a little more than one month until school started again and the owls were due any moment. This was the third such day in a row.

Finally, in the distance, he spotted two owls. When they flew in, one bore an envelope with the Hogwarts seal on it, that, as soon as Chris removed it, flew off to collect and deliver the next. The other was a regular owl who delivered the _Daily Prophet._ Usually the owl was rather relaxed, taking a slow drink of water while its load was taken and the money paid. This morning, however, the owl dropped the paper on the table, and took off as soon as it got its payment, its feathers wild as it shot off into the distance like a rocket.

"What on earth?" he muttered as he picked up the paper first. What he saw made him glad he didn't have anything in his mouth and promptly forgot his Hogwarts letter.

_**SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT OF ALL CHARGES!**_

_For eleven years, Sirius Black has been a resident of Azkaban, the wizard prison guarded by the fearsome Dementors, for the crime of betraying Lily and James Potter to You-Know-Who, resulting in the deaths of the Potters and the vanquishing of You-Know-Who by their son, Harry James Potter, on October 31, 1991, and also the murder of Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggle bystanders the following day._

_But new evidence has come to light suggesting that not only is Black innocent of all charges, but that Pettigrew is the real culprit! A witness has come forward, claiming that Pettigrew is an unregistered Animagus. To be precise, a common garden rat. This form was used to Pettigrew's advantage when he fled from the scene where Black confronted him. When Pettigrew drew his wand, he sliced off a finger before casting a Blasting Curse that killed twelve Muggle bystanders. In the melee, Pettigrew transformed and escaped with other rats frightened from the sudden explosion. Muggle survivors' statements were taken, then their memories wiped by Ministry Obliviators. The identity of the lone witness is being kept confidential._

_To add insult to injury, Sirius Black was never given a trial to determine his guilt or innocence. It is thought that his confession that "it's my fault they're dead," combined with the recent downfall of You-Know-Who and the capture of many of His followers, led to Black's almost immediate life sentence in Azkaban in the chaotic wake to bring order back to the Wizarding World._

_Pettigrew's Animagus and Death Eater statuses were confirmed when Aurors visited the home of Arthur Weasley, who works in the Department of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts in the Ministry of Magic. Mr. Weasley swore on his magic that he was unaware that a Death Eater had used his family for refuge for eleven years. _

_"We didn't think it was odd that Scabbers, er, Pettigrew had lived so long."_

_The current owner of the "rat," Mr. Weasley's youngest son, Ronald, had nothing to say on the subject. Ron Weasley will be attending Hogwarts in the fall for his second year and is the only known member of the Weasley clan to be Sorted into Slytherin House._

_Sirius Black has been moved to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, pending a sanity evaluation to determine his competence to be allowed back into Wizarding society._

_For more on Sirius Black and his lack of a trial, please turn to page 2._

_For more on the events of October 31, 1991, and the downfall of You-Know-Who, please turn to page 3._

_For more on Peter Pettigrew, please turn to page 4._

_For more on the search for Harry Potter, please turn to page 6._

Below the article was an outdated picture of four young men with their arms stretched in a wide hug. Chris picked out his father easily, because he had seen him in the Mirror of Erised. He supposed Pettigrew must be the small one whose face looked like a rat. Of the other two, the handsome one had to be Sirius Black. His arms were slung around James Potter and Pettigrew, while the only one he didn't recognize, the one on the far right, had James Potter's arm slung around his shoulder, as if to tug him into the picture. His face, even at that young age, was lined and his hair had little spots of gray in it. The caption at the bottom read: _From left: Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin. Taken May 1988._

Rose walked in at that moment.

"Hey, Mum, look at this," he said, shakily handing the paper to her. Rose's eyes skimmed the article; she nodded approvingly.

"About time he was set free."

"You knew he was innocent?"

Rose smiled at him in that manner of knowing something he didn't. "Of course." Her eyes flickered toward the unopened Hogwarts letter.

"Are you going to open that?"

"Yeah," Chris muttered faintly. He tore open the envelope. It had the standard "catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September the first" stuff that he knew would be there. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.

Second-year students will require:

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ by Miranda Goshawk  
_Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockhart  
_Year with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockhart

Chris stared at the book list. "You've got to be kidding me? _His _books? They're expensive!"

Rose took the list and perused it, then snorted. "You won't be getting those books."

He stared at her. "But they're on my booklist!"

"They are also a waste of perfectly good paper and ink and gold. I will get you _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_, but I am not getting the Lockhart set. I'd also send Hermione an e-mail and Hedwig to Draco telling them the same if I were you. Do you need any more school supplies?"

"Some more ink and parchment. The teachers just love setting foot-long essays."

Rose nodded. "Okay. We'll eat brunch somewhere before we head to Diagon Alley on Saturday. It's going to be busy."

* * *

In his office, Albus Dumbledore could only stare in horror at the front page of the Daily Prophet. It had taken a stroke of luck to put Black in prison and now it seemed someone else had turned the tide. This, combined with the sudden disappearance of BartemiusCrouch from the Ministry, had thrown him off guard. Someone out there knew what was going on behind the scenes and was determined to bring it to the public light.

So far, Dumbledore's name had been kept out of the papers, but it was only going to be a matter of time before he was deluged with owls wanting to know why the Chief of the Wizengamot had not given an obviously innocent man a fair and impartial trial, never mind the fact that the Aurors were catching true Death Eaters left and right that hectic day.

He threw the offending paper down and sighed.

It was a good thing he didn't drink, he decided, or else he might have given in to the temptation.

* * *

Originally, this chapter would have covered the entirety of the summer, but I figured with all the stuff I wanted to pack in that I'd best split it into two. Hence, here is part one. Part two of the summer is in the works, then it is onto the actual school year.

Rose isn't perfect. By rushing to free Sirius, she has set in motion the events that will begin breaking this story from canon. Though some things will remain in motion, I believe we can agree that third year will definitely be different than what JK wrote.

The next chapter will cover going into Diagon Alley, a press conference with Sirius Black, and let's not forget…the return of Harry Potter. Or is it?

Please forward any and all questions to the Yahoo Group. I prefer to answer the questions there so that everyone can see my answers. Otherwise, I might get confused and have two different versions that conflict and I don't want that.

I shall be starting immediately on the next chapter. I hope to have it published really soon. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

(Ducks out of hidey-hole) Um, hello. I know that most of y'all are ready to kill me about right now, so I will only say a few notes on this chapter, then let y'all go while I continue working on the next chapter.

I know that in the book, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys went to Diagon Alley on a Wednesday. I did not notice that little bit until after I had written the previous chapter. So, it will stay on a Saturday, with nothing happening on the day Lockhart did the signing the Wednesday before. I also researched Welsh food for a small part in here, to make it more realistic. Also, this chapter is mostly focused on Sirius.

* * *

Chapter XIV: Sirius Matters

_Drip_. _Drip_. _Drip_.

Sirius Black peered up from his sorry excuse for a mattress. A hole he had plugged several years ago had come loose again in the storms that had hit the small island fortress last night and rain was dripping steadily from a crack in the opposite corner.

With a sigh, he hauled himself to his feet and scrounged around for a loose bit of clothing or fur, anything to stop the leak.

_Drip_. _Drip_. _Drip_.

Finally, he found an old hairball that had long since dried up. The large clump of hair fit perfectly into the small crack.

He lay back down, halfway considering changing into Padfoot just so he could get a little warmer. Even though it was the middle of summer, with Dementors around, their chill permeated the air. The only way he knew the seasons had changed was that Azkaban was either cold or frozen. There was no such thing as heat or sweat in here.

A loud _bang_ made him glad he hadn't changed. Twisting his head around, he caught sight of Minister Fudge, accompanied by two Aurors who he vaguely recognized.

"Morning, Minister. Or is it afternoon? Hard to tell in a place like this, isn't it?"

Fudge looked unsettled and frankly, Sirius didn't blame him. People were supposed to lose their minds in Azkaban, not stay rational. Behind him, the Aurors gripped their wands tightly. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, I'm not going to attack you. What would I attack you for anyways? You're obviously not here for the resort discount."

"Sirius Black, you will go with these Aurors, whereupon you will be transported to a secure facility, fed, clothed and bathed." Fudge stopped and sniffed the air. "Though not necessarily in that order."

Fudge turned on his heel and left, leaving the Aurors to open the door. Sirius sniffed himself and shrugged.

After a decade of solitude, you kind of stopped worrying about those kinds of things.

* * *

Three hours later, Sirius was still in a daze. It had nothing to do with the fact that he had been subjected to more soap in the first thirty minutes of freedom than he had ever before, perhaps.

No, it was that he had seen Wormtail being led into the Ministry of Magic, courtesy of some _Daily_ _Prophet_s that were lying around, with thick glowing enchanted chains on him that dampened magic and made it impossible for him to transform into his rat form.

Below that was another article, detailing the search for his godson. His _lost_ godson, who, apparently, had not been seen since that fateful night eleven years ago.

He couldn't help it. He passed out cold.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and hot. As Chris and Rose got ready to leave, the owl arrived bearing the morning _Prophet._ Chris unrolled the paper.

"Looks like Sirius Black is holding a conference at Diagon Alley at noon today," he said, skimming the paper. He snorted. "Looks like we missed Gilderoy Lockhart back on Wednesday"

Sure enough, below the small announcement about Sirius Black's conference was a big advertisement of Lockhart grinning broadly, signing his latest book _Magical_ _Me_, with a background of fireworks to draw attention to it, thanking those who had come out to see him.

"Ready to go?"

Chris nodded, putting the paper aside.

"Let's go now. I want to listen to the press conference."

Rose checked her watch. "It's half past eight. We'll have plenty of time."

* * *

After a leisurely brunch at a Welsh restaurant, which included crempogs and Glamorgan sausage (the place being not only far better than the Leaky Cauldron, but also cleaner), they Flooed to said pub. This time, thankfully, Chris had remembered to put his glasses in his pocket before they Flooed.

When they had discovered at age six he needed glasses, Rose had insisted on taking him to a Magical optician, who had fitted him with the right prescription. This particular set had had Charms built in to prevent breaking, something which confused Rose to no end when they broke coming out of the Floo. It also had personal Sticking Charms on them, which meant that they couldn't fall off his face.

Diagon Alley was crowded. People were milling about, waiting for the press conference, even though it would not be for another two hours. Flourish and Blotts was no less crowded. From his perspective, Chris could see that the store had sold out of Lockhart's books. _Probably got them autographed too._ He grabbed his copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Year 2_ and started pushing his way to the front. On the way, he noticed several other books that were on sale: _Animagi: Finding the Animal in You_ by Ileana Ironclaws, and _Basic Dueling: A Guide _by (he had to take a double take) Filius Flitwick. Unable to resist, he grabbed a copy of each and pushed to Rose, who was holding a spot about halfway in the store, the line was so long. She raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Mum," he begged.

She sighed. "Fine."

It took them fifteen minutes to check out, by which time Chris had already read the first chapter of _Animagi_.

"You do realize your body isn't ready to start that yet, right?" she asked, as they pushed their way to the exit.

"I know. I figure I could work on the theory this year, maybe next as well. Do you think Hermione and Draco would be interested too?"

"And just who are you going to get to teach you these skills?"

"Well...I was thinking maybe you could teach us, Mum. After all, you are-"

"Hush!"

Chris had the good sense to be embarrassed. "Sorry, Mum. I'm just so excited!"

She sighed. "I know. But don't get so excited you forget your surroundings. The phrase 'The walls have ears' is literal in the Magical World."

They emerged from the store to a crowd twice the size it had been when they went in. Rose checked her watch.

"Fifteen minutes until the press conference starts," she said, sighing at the crowd. "So much for getting a closer look."

But Chris didn't hear her, so engrossed was he in his new book. Rose sighed. _That's what I get for having a Ravenclaw for a son_.

A loud squealing suddenly sounded over the crowd, making everyone cringe and cover their ears. Even Chris yelped in pain.

"Um, sorry," said a magically enhanced voice. "Haven't done magic in a while. Being in Azkaban doesn't exactly allow for regular practice." A chuckle.

"Erm, anyway, my name is Sirius Black. 'Course, you probably already know that." - A few scattered laughs in the crowd. - "But…aw, forget the script. Starting over.

"My name's Sirius Black. Eleven years ago, I was wrongfully imprisoned for the murders of James and Lily Potter and Peter Pettigrew. While it was true that I was the Secret Keeper for James and Lily, I, in an overconfident streak, decided that I was too obvious to be the Secret Keeper. At the time, I am sorry to say that we suspected our other friend, Remus Lupin, to be a supporter of You-Know-Who, for private reasons and for which I truly and deeply apologize, and turned to the only other friend we had know since we were children: Peter Pettigrew.

"But it was a trap. On the eve of You-Know-Who's demise, without anyone knowing, we changed the Secret Keeper. Not even Dumbledore knew, the man who had done the ritual with myself and James the first time. Immediately, Peter Pettigrew returned to _His_ side, to tell his master where he could find the Potters. The following night, Lily and James were dead, and my godson orphaned. Filled with righteous anger, I set out to confront the person I knew was responsible. I found him, all right. But Pettigrew turned the confrontation against me. He shouted to everyone listening that it was I who had betrayed my best friend and his wife. He then blew up the street, killing a dozen Muggles, leaving behind only a severed finger as proof of his presence.

"I couldn't help it. I laughed. All those years, Pettigrew had pretended to be dim-witted, to need help at every turn, and here he was, cleverly framing me for the murder he had committed. I laughed as Aurors and Obliviators rushed onto the scene, taking statements from Muggle witnesses before Obliviating their memories and sending them off on their merry way with a story about a gas main exploding, whatever that is."

There was a pause as he cleared his throat and took a drink of water.

"In the aftermath of…well, _everything_, my saying that it was all my fault James and Lily were dead was taken as a confession of guilt and, without further ado, I was thrown into Azkaban without a trial, where I have rotted for more than a decade."

Cries of fury went up from the audience at this serious miscarriage of justice. From what Rose and Chris could see, Sirius actually took a step back from the force of the angry whisperings.

"I know many of you think this unfair treatment!" he yelled over the heads of the audience. "I myself have already filed a suit against the Ministry of Magic for this miscarriage of justice. The funds I win, and believe me, I _will_ win, I will use in the search for my godson, Harry James Potter!"

A roar of approval went up from the crowd, as many people starting clapping and cheering for Sirius. Turning slightly red from the sight of so many faces smiling and approving of him, Sirius left the stage, only to be confronted by a man in patched robes, who had bowed his head and was murmuring to Sirius. Sirius grinned and hugged the shabby man, a shocked look on the latter's face.

"I think," murmured Rose, "we need to go."

And, taking Chris's arm, they Apparated home.

* * *

He had read the announcement in the paper just like everyone else. At first, he couldn't believe what he had read. Sirius, innocent? And Peter alive and bearing the Dark Mark? When he had been sent to Azkaban, Remus had wavered on whether or not to visit him. In the end, he had visited Sirius, but come away not believing anything his last friend on this planet had had to say.

-_Flashback_-

_Cold! Oh, great Merlin, it was cold! Well, what was he expecting? Balmy in November?_

_Remus blew on his hands as the small boat approached the foreboding fortress. As they grew closer, his breath crystallized in the air. Terrible memories floated to the surface, mostly those from __when he had been bitten, but he roughly shoved them into the back of his mind. He couldn't afford to go mental here. They might 'accidentally' shove him into a cell, especially if they knew of his affliction._

_The vessel brushed up against the shore and the Auror accompanying him jumped off to secure the little craft. He got out, his joints already complaining at the sudden cold stiffness._

_He walked in to the sound of cackling. The place was packed barely a week after Voldemort's fall. Against his better judgment, he glanced in a few cells as he passed. One he recognized right off._

"_Bellatrix Lestrange," he murmured._

_The already insane woman was playing with her arm, her twisted mind already as warped as the grin on her face. Apparently, the crazier you were, the faster Azkaban affected you. _

"_They say Master's dead, Bella knows better, oh yes, I do, Master is out there, he will find me, reward me."_

_She looked up, and by a shaft of light, Remus saw the Dark Mark reflected on her arm. It twisted and writhed, the snake determined to detach itself from the mouth of the skull. Bellatrix was __tracing the Mark with one long fingernail, not yet ruined by Azkaban's filth. There was no recognition on her face. She simply went right back to tracing her Mark, murmuring._

_A few cells down, a young man with dark brown hair was protesting his innocence. As they passed, he threw himself at the bars._

"_Get me out of here, you filthy little man! I want out, you hear me, out!"_

_He banged his head on the bars a few times before stumbling to his cot and passing out, his body trembling from the effects of nearby Dementors._

"_Here," said the Auror, lighting his wand. From the tip emerged a haze that caused the Dementor guarding the cell to glide away. _

_The door opened and for a few seconds, all Remus saw was blackness, lengthening into eternity. Then a face emerged, terrified, and scared, with wild eyes, though not mad. _

"_Remus?" he croaked. "Remus!"_

_Sirius scrambled to his feet and Remus took a step back. _

"_Please, Remus, I didn't kill them!"_

"_You confessed that you did."_

_Sirius shook his head. "No, no. It was Peter, I swear, Peter betrayed them, he–"_

"_Save it, Black." Remus's voice was hard. "You were the Secret-Keeper. You only killed Peter so you could frame him. I should have known. You tried using me to kill once before. You're a Black, plain and simple. It was only a matter of time before your blood betrayed your friends."_

"_No! Please, Remus!" The next words came as a whisper. "Please, Moony."_

_Remus stiffened. "Don't _ever_ use that name again. You're not worthy of it."_

_And with that, he stalked out, leaving behind a broken man._

_-Flashback Ends-_

Now what? Would his friend forgive him, after he had been so harsh?

So he stood waiting as close to the stage as he could dare, the seconds dragging. When Sirius came off the stage, and came face to face with him, Remus held his breath.

"Moony," whispered Sirius, shocked.

"Padfoot," Remus whispered back, bowing his head. "I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry, I shouldn't have–"

He was cut short as Sirius hugged him in joy. Surprised, he could do nothing more than hug the weakened man back, thanking every deity he could think of that at least one of his friends was back.

* * *

Well, I really wanted to make the summer longer, but I have held off long enough. The hardest part was this last scene. I kept reworking it and reworking it until this version finally resolved into being. It's a good thing my trashcan is super-environmentally friendly.

I am, however, working quite hard on the next chapter, and can give a little preview of the upcoming year.

When Chris returns to Hogwarts with Hermione and Draco, and finds a very convincing Harry Potter look-alike attracting everyone's attention, even Hermione's, it is hard for him to keep from proclaiming his true identity. Can he keep his friendship intact or is it headed for destruction as he teeters between keeping himself secret or breaking the truth to Draco and Hermione?


	15. Chapter 15

(_Spins_ _in_ _chair_) Whee! Can you believe it? Another chapter so soon? My muses are being extremely cooperative. So far, so good, I imagine. Maybe they'll keep on being nice so we can finish the year before Christmas, hm? (Cass: Don't push it.) Well, it's not a no, is it?

I have wavered between making the look-alike very cocky and arrogant or shy and wanting friendship or something else akin to canon-Harry's personality. I have kind of mixed the last two together to create this one. And _Doctor_ _Who_ fans will be pleased at his name. I seriously considered naming him Harry Saxon, btw, but decided against that. However, in the future, I might name a character that. Also, I will probably be embedding _Doctor_ _Who_ names here and there, but this is _**not**_ a _Doctor_ _Who_ crossover! I simply like the names. As for the painting of the Fifth Doctor, well, who says Muggleborns can't learn to paint magical paintings of their favorite things? For the Doctor, _Harry_ _Potter_ is just a book. What if, there, it is the reverse? And kudos to any who spotted Barty Crouch, Jr. in the last chapter! David Tennant is the only reason I really enjoy watching _Goblet_ _of_ _Fire_.

Some have questioned, "Why is it that in every hidden Harry Potter story, there is a Harry Potter look-alike that appears at some time in the story?" For the mere fact that it is a perfect plot piece!_ Everyone_ in the world has a look-alike. Mine is local. You wouldn't_ believe_ the amount of times I am mistaken for her. My best friend's look-alike is the girl who played Millicent Bulstrode in the movie version of _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_. So, it only makes sense to include that bit in the story. Plus, it makes Chris wonder, "What would be the Wizarding World's reaction to 'me'? How exactly would Dumbledore try to control 'me'? And what would my friends think about 'me'?" Through the look-alike, he can see how.

Okay, enough rambling. _Allons-y_!

* * *

_**BEGIN YEAR 2 ARC**_

"O, what a tangled web we weave,  
When first we practise to deceive!"  
-Sir Walter Scott-

Chapter XV: The Prince and the Pauper

The rest of the summer proceeded quietly. For the whole month of August, there were daily reports in the _Daily Prophet _from Sirius Black, who had exhausted himself half to death in the search for his godson. Most of the United Kingdom had been searched into a surprisingly swift manner, lending some to believe that Sirius had taken as many Aurors as he could with him to track down Harry Potter as part of his compensation from the Ministry. Now they were moving to the Continent itself, starting with France.

Perhaps Fate had decided to be kind to Sirius Black for suffering as long as he had, for on the day before the return to Hogwarts, Chris opened the Saturday edition of the _Daily Prophet _and promptly spat orange juice all over it, muttering Welsh epithets the entire time.

"Chris, language!" asked Rose, forgoing the eggs that were scrambling on the stove. A quick prod with her wand and the stove suspended its activity. "Are you all right?"

Still cleaning up the orange juice that had sprayed from his nose, Chris handed the soggy paper to his mother. A quick tap of her wand cleaned off the juice off the parchment.

"Oh, dear," she muttered.

_**HARRY POTTER FOUND IN PARIS!  
WIZARDING WORLD REJOICES!**_

_Last night, the search for Harry Potter came to a happy end as a tearful Sirius Black was reunited with his long-lost godson. Though it has been eleven years since the Wizarding World saw the Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Potter looks like the photos of his deceased parents, Lily and James Potter. With his dark hair and shy green eyes, it is hard to believe that he ever managed to stay hidden for so long._

_For these past eleven years, Mr. Potter has been living under an alias. When he was discovered on an orphanage's doorstop at the approximate age of a year and a half, the boy was promptly adopted within a few days by a Muggle French couple, who had been trying to have a child for years and finally chose to adopt. _

_Mr. and Mrs. Frame were quite surprised when they walked into their local grocery store and just happened to bump into Sirius Black, who, upon questioning why he was in a Muggle store to begin with, simply shrugged and pointed at the curiously still rack of Muggle magazines._

_"They're more interesting," he was quoted._

_Their son, Alonzo, as he had grown up as, chose that moment to make eye contact with Mr. Black, who instantly recognized the child as Harry Potter and promptly hugged the confused child._

_This, of course, led to a minor uproar as the parents snatched their child and dashed away from the Muggle store, screaming in French to anyone nearby._

_Later in the day, Mr. Black tracked down the Frames, accompanied by a pair of Aurors, and introduced himself to them, explaining to them why he had reacted as he had. (An Auror translated.) The Frames already knew of magic, their son having attended one year at the Beaubaxtons Academy of Magic in France._

_Sirius Black, Alonzo Frame, and his adoptive parents currently reside at the Black Family Residence until such time as Mr. Potter, or, as he prefers to be known, Mr. Frame, decides in which world he will reside. In the meantime, he has been enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to continue his education. Upon his Sorting, he will begin classes with the Second Years_.

"Well, that's that, then," murmured Rose, handing it back to him. "At least they'll stop looking now. There's only so much forgery you can do, even with goblins' assistance, before someone notices something off." She sighed. "Still, least now Dumbledore will have someone else to focus on. For a little while, anyway, we're safe."

Chris could only stare at the picture, which, to his surprise, did look a lot like his "natural" self. Dark hair, though not jet black, green eyes that looked like jade instead of emerald and a thin face, with high cheekbones and a shy smile that showed off a small dimple. He did not wear glasses, something which Chris was envious of, not being able to get magical contact lenses until after he hit puberty. Something to do with the magic in the contacts.

"I've got to finish packing," he muttered, slipping away from the table, the paper still in his hands. He dashed away before his mother could say another word.

* * *

The next day at Kings Cross Station, there was a lot of obviously magical people hanging around with cameras around their necks and holding parchment pads. Muggles that strayed close by the very temporary and very weak Muggle Repelling Ward stared at them before moving on to their suddenly imperative meetings, for some had obviously not been in the Muggle world before and had dressed in the best outfits they could find. For one unfortunate wizard, this included a too small lime green jacket over an atrocious orange pair of clown pants and a pink shirt with a huge "I (heart) London" plastered on it.

Chris and Rose had barely gotten to the platform when the cameras started going off. For a second, Chris almost panicked, then relaxed as he saw four people approaching the barrier, one of whom he recognized as Sirius Black. The other three must have been the Frame family. The man was tall, and with his frown and steely gaze at the magical people, could have been mistaken for Professor Snape's brother, or at least a cousin. Beside him, his wife, tiny compared to him, barely coming up to his shoulder, grasped her son tightly. Alonzo too was staring wide-eyed at the press. Clearly, someone, maybe even him in a joking manner, had made the mention of his likeness sometime ago at Beaubaxtons and by the scared look on his face, was now regretting drawing attention to his background.

"Mr. Potter, any words for the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Do you think you'll like Hogwarts?"

"What is it like having Muggles for parents?"

"Please," said Alonzo in broken, yet understandable English. The boy was turning red. "I only weesh to attend 'Ogwarts. Eet is what they wanted. _Sivou plai_, no more questions."

And they darted through the barrier, the press hot on their heels.

"Well, onward we go," muttered Rose.

By the time they got on the Platform, negotiated around the reporters, (_If only they knew_, snickered Chris in his mind) and stowed away his trunk in an empty carriage, they were exhausted. A few minutes later, Hermione poked her head in.

"Did you hear? Harry Potter's on the train!"

"Wonderful, Hermione," wheezed Chris. "Note to self: Get in better shape."

Rose laughed. "I'll leave you too alone. Don't forget to write, Hedwig needs the exercise. And try not to get into trouble this year, yeah?

"It's not like I go _looking_ for trouble, it just finds me," protested Chris. "I think it's got a GPS chip hidden in my body!"

"Right," Rose winked. A quick kiss on the forehead ("Mom! Not in front of Hermione!") and she was gone, pushing past boarding students and photographers attempting to jostle their way through the children to get to the Apparition point.

"She only does it because she loves you," said Hermione as Chris pretended to sanitize the area.

"I know," he grumbled.

"So, what do you think about him?"

"Who?"

"Harry Potter, who else?"

"I could name several others, but okay."

She frowned at him, and opened her mouth to say something, but Draco chose to moment to interrupt.

"Great Merlin, this train's crowded! Everyone wanting to take a snapshot of Harry Potter walking down the carriage, Harry Potter putting his bags away, Harry Potter sneaking off to the bathroom and fighting to get his first embarrassing shot should he forget to close his flap." He made a face. "I can tell this year is going to focus solely on Potter."

"Well, can you blame them?" said Hermione. "He's been missing for so many years and then he turns up alive and well."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So...did you get the Lockhart books?"

"No, why?"

"Because, apparently, Lockhart is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

Silence.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me!" blurted out Chris. "No wonder his books were on the list!"

"Yes," snorted Draco primly. "Father knew him back when they were in school. Ambitious, but brains of fluff, he said."

Chris banged his head on _The Standard Book of Spells, Year 2_. Repeatedly.

"It's a conspiracy," he muttered.

* * *

It was dark when they pulled into Hogwarts Station. Not knowing where to go, Chris and Hermione followed Draco to what appeared to be a horseless carriage. They were joined shortly by Neville, who, it seemed, had found Roverta a magical terrarium and a male toad to go along with it.

"Grandmother found it," said Neville. "I worked on it all summer long. At least now she won't get away."

Chris wasn't about to mention that the mutinous toad looked like she was scheming to jump out and away as soon as the moment presented itself. Could toads give the middle finger? If so, she sure knew what she was saying.

A sharp tug and the carriage started bouncing along. Up ahead, Chris could see more carriages leading the way to the castle, all devoid of visible outside influence. When he asked how they were being pulled along, Hermione simply smiled.

"Magic."

They got off in front of the castle doors and rushed in before Peeves could pelt them with what appeared to be tomatoes, most likely stolen from the kitchen. Still, Draco somehow managed to get a ripe tomato right to the back of his head, staining his white-blonde hair red.

"Yuch," he muttered when they finally reached the Ravenclaw Table. He reached behind his head and withdrew a handful of tomato pulp. "I hate that poltergeist."

"Here," said Hermione, pulling out her wand. "_Evanesco_."

About half the tomato mess covering the back of Draco's head disappeared. Another try and the rest disappeared, leaving Draco's hair with a shiny red tint.

"_Standard Book of Spells_, _Year 2, _last chapter," she muttered, tucking her wand away. "Still needs more work."

They turned their attention to the front, where, as soon as the last student had settled and the stool with the Sorting Hat on it was placed right in front of Dumbledore's chair, the door next to the Head Table opened, and Professor McGonagall came through, a roll of parchment in her hands, followed by a crowd of First Years and Alonzo Frame bringing up the rear.

"I do sympathize with them," whispered Hermione.

"When I call your name," said Professor McGonagall, "you will sit on the stool, and the Sorting Hat will be placed on your head to determine your House."

She cleared her throat.

"Frame, Alonzo!"

The scared boy made his way to the stool and sat down on it. For a minute, there was silence. Then–

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a loud noise as every Gryffindor began clapping and yelling. It took several minutes for them to quiet down and the Sorting to resume as usual.

Chris, however, ignored most of the rest of the Sorting, preferring to watch and analyze his look-alike. It was rather uncanny, seeing a boy who could have easily been your twin separated at birth staring up and down the unfamiliar settings, and starting whenever anyone came near him.

"Lovegood, Luna."

"RAVENCLAW!"

Jerked from his musings, Chris clapped at the newest Ravenclaw, who jumped off the stool, patted the Sorting Hat, and skipped over to the table, choosing to place herself right in front of Chris instead of the end of the table with the other First Years. She had thin hair and large eyes, and her wand was tucked behind one ear. She wore what appeared to be fishing hooks for earrings. Luna noticed him staring at them.

"It's to keep away the Flying Ferrins. They get hooked if they come too close to try to eat my brains." She tilted her head curiously. "You look like you could do with some yourself."

"No, thank you," he said hastily. Beside him, Draco sniggered, then choked as Chris elbowed him in retaliation.

"Oh, well," said Luna, smiling dreamily. "Maybe there'll be pudding. I like pudding."

The Sorting ended with "Weasley, Ginevra!" being Sorted into Gryffindor.

"I thought there weren't any female Weasleys," said Chris.

"There hasn't been for quite some time," said Draco, staring at the petite girl sitting near Frame. At the Slytherin table, her brother was glowering at her. "That's why there are so many of them, because every other Weasley today is a male and so of course carried on that name when they married and had _more_ male children."

"Wow," muttered Chris. "Family reunions must be _huge_, then."

"They are," said Luna dreamily. "I live near this branch. I can slip on a red wig and blend in with them when they hold it, 'cause nobody minds another redhead running around."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You _go_ to their reunions?"

She turned her large eyes on him. "Of course. One must always be on the lookout for strange creatures. I can usually spot some Blibbering Humdingers around the punch bowl."

Professor McGonagall chose that moment to tap a glass for quiet. Once the murmuring died down, Dumbledore began to speak. He looked decidedly better than he had at the Opening Feast last year. His face looked younger and his smile was genuine.

"Welcome, welcome to all! I hope your brains had enough time over the summer to empty themselves. But before we get started on the food, I feel I must introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, though you probably already know who he is: Gilderoy Lockhart!"

There was a loud applause as the student body, most of them girls, clapped excitedly. Lockhart, dressed resplendently in robes of royal blue, stood up and took a bow. Once the students had finished clapping, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Now, I imagine your stomachs are just as empty as your heads, so hop to it!"

Immediately, the dishes filled with food and they dug in. Too soon, the main course disappeared, as did the desserts, especially the pudding.

"Merlin, I'm stuffed," said Chris, leaning back in his chair. "I hope we don't miss our first class tomorrow 'cause we slept in."

A grunt was all he got from Draco.

* * *

True to Chris's predictions, they were late for their first class, which happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts. When Chris and Draco arrived, panting, it was to a totally silent room. Students appeared to be taking a quiz of some sort.

"Ah, there you two are!" said Lockhart, grinning at them. In his hands were two thick stacks of parchment. "We just started, come in, come in!"

He ushered the two boys to their seats and put a quiz on each of their desks.

"You have twenty-five minutes, so I suggest you start immediately!"

Chris looked down in bemusement at the parchment.

_1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?  
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?  
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's  
greatest achievement to date?_

Grinning, Chris set to work. This was going to be fun.

_Okay, number 1: His favorite color. Hm. Hot Pink! _He jotted down his answer. _Number 2_: _secret ambition. Well, if I knew, then it wouldn't be a secret. Number 3: Greatest achievement to date. Living through everything he's written in his books. Number 4..._

And so it went for the time allotted. At the end, Lockhart called time and picked up everyone's papers. Most of them he flitted through with a tut-tut, but at Chris's, he actually stopped long enough to read his first few answers before moving onto the next.

Only Hermione got every question right, but Chris put that down to her ability to absorb a book after only reading it once and regurgitate anything out of it at will.

"Now, if you'll take out your copies of _Holidays with Hags_..."

The whole class except Chris and Hermione moved to take their books out of their bags and place them on their desks. Draco, unfortunately, had not gotten Chris's letter until after he had bought the books. Lockhart noticed this.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Evans, where are your copies?"

"Sir," said Hermione meekly. "We couldn't afford the books. I thought I could share with a classmate, or, if necessary, check out a copy from the library."

Lockhart nodded knowingly. "Yes, I was once there myself. Even now, I am quite frugal. Do not fret, we'll resolve that soon enough. And your excuse, Mr. Evans?"

"My mum says you're a filthy liar with a slimy exterior even Voldemort would be proud of and she wasn't about to have that offensive waste of good ink and parchment in her home, let alone taking them to school with me," he said bluntly. As an afterthought, he added, "End quote."

The class gasped and Lockhart's smile faded away. For a minute, there was silence as an understood staring contest between Lockhart and Chris erupted. It ended when Lockhart cleared his throat.

"Well – er – your mother must be mistaken," Lockhart finally said. "I'll be sending her a letter. And...five points from Ravenclaw for disrespecting a teacher."

Most of the class gasped. Hermione and Draco looked at him as if he were nuts. Chris just shrugged and zoned Lockhart out. Wasn't like he was going to learn anything from the man anyway. All the interesting stuff had happened with the Gryffindors the previous period. Something about pixies...

* * *

The next morning, Chris received an owl from his mother. She warned him not to draw too much attention to himself, but congratulated him on not backing down from Lockhart before he could draw him into his web. There was also a little suggestion of what to do should Lockhart try to get too friendly with any student. He snickered as he showed Draco and Hermione that bit.

"I'll have to remember that," said Draco, nodding in approval.

As he finished reading the letter, he noticed more owls pouring in. To his surprise, they were all aiming for the Gryffindor table. They alighted in front of a surprised Alonzo. Behind him was Professor McGonagall, checking each owl as they offered their respective packages.

"I reckon he'll be getting his fan mail," said Chris. A part of him was jealous, thinking it should be him receiving all those gifts. But the other, more sensible bit said that if he was getting those, that would end his secret. Mostly, from what he could see, they were all either boxes of candy or books for him to read or drawings from children too young to remember what had happened to their families. At least he didn't get a pair of women's panties. That would have been too much.

"C'mon, we've got Transfiguration first thing," said Hermione, not noticing the look on Chris's face. Draco, if he noticed, said nothing.

* * *

Herbology, now on Thursday evenings, was a lot more interesting than Defense, AKA Drama101. It seemed that Professor Sprout had gotten a hold of some mandrakes and their job was to transplant this batch into new pots. The Gryffindors and Slytherins had gotten to do their half of the creatures on the first day of school. Only Neville Longbottom had reacted aversely to the creatures' squeals, fainting for the duration of the class. Ron Weasley had nearly lost a finger when he decided to see what would happen if he tickled its nose.

Professor Sprout promptly began shooting out questions.

"Who can tell me the properties of mandrakes?"

It was a competition as half the class raised their hands. She picked Anthony Goldstein.

"It's a powerful restorative," he said. "If someone's been cursed or transfigured or at worst, turned into a living statue, they can be turned back to their normal state."

Hermione, who had raised her hand as well, looked quite disappointed.

"Very good! Ten points to Ravenclaw! For this specific reason, the mandrake is used in many potions. But harvesting these creatures is highly dangerous. Can anyone tell me why?"

Again, half the class raised their hands. This time, she picked Morag MacDougal.

"A fully grown Mandrake can kill with its cry. That's how my great uncle died. Accidentally dug one up that had planted itself in his turnip bed. It wasn't happy."

Professor Sprout grimaced. "Yes, well, ten points to Hufflepuff. You will not be working with full-grown mandrakes. These are just seedlings and while they won't kill you, they can knock you out for a few hours."

She pointed to seventeen earmuffs, several of them pink and fluffy, lying on a nearby table. "So, if you will each take a pair of earmuffs and put them on, I'll show you how to transplant them."

There was a mad scramble as sixteen students rushed to avoid getting pink earmuffs, which unfortunately, didn't work for Chris or Draco, as they both got stuck with a fluffy pink pair each. When they put the earmuffs on, they couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing by in their heads. Professor Sprout, wearing pink earmuffs herself, picked a tray, pulled the mandrake out by its purplish green tuft on top, and plopped it in its new pot. It was an ugly thing, like a mottled pale green baby made of dirt with roots for arms and legs, and it was clearly not happy about being forcibly removed from its cozy spot. Once it was completely covered, she gave the thumbs up to remove the earmuffs. The rush of sound made Chris's ears hurt.

"Now, pick a mandrake tray and four pots and get started. Don't forget to use the dragon dung in the compost bag there, they love it best! The more you get done, the better! We have around one hundred that need transplanting and an hour and a half to do it in."

By the time they finally managed to get their mandrakes transplanted (one of Chris's wanted to attach itself to him, and several of Draco's did not want to get in their new pot), they were sweaty and dirty and smelly. Between the three of them, they had managed to transplant two dozen. When Professor Sprout noticed this, she awarded an extra five points to Ravenclaw for their diligent work.

"It was worth it," said Chris as they left for dinner.

Hermione was still sulking.

* * *

Short, yes, I know, but the next chapter focuses on Halloween and its aftereffects and I wanted to get to that as soon as possible. I know most of y'all are wondering how the diary will factor in this year and will it be sneaked to Ginny Weasley as before or a different victim this time. I guess y'all will just have to wait and see, unless _you_ figure it out first! A little food for thought there.

On toads, well, we have an American toad (Trevor) that usually comes in when he feels like it. We then dump him in our bathtub, (since it really doesn't work, all it's good for is cleaning the dog, who seems to think eating Trevor is his life goal) and once I did look in there to see he had pulled all his toes back on one of his feet except one, the middle one. (_Sigh_) Silly thing.

Mum vs. Mom: I am American, so if I slip up, just pretend I didn't, k? With the projected length of this story easily passing fifty chapters, I am bound to make grammatical mistakes like that. But I shall definitely try not to.

I have decided to leave the Yahoo Group open and screen people as they come in. Remember, Group members get first look at all new chapters, plus, when it comes time for them, bonus material (like deleted scenes, spoilers, or guides) will be loaded up ONLY on the Group. (_Checks_ _Extras_ _Folder_) Actually, there's already something up. (_nudge_, _nudge_) I don't do Facebook or Twitter or MySpace, so please don't ask about that. I have enough trouble juggling the Group. Art is always appreciated!

So, I'm off to work on the next chapter while the ball's still rolling. Wish me luck! Oh, and less than two weeks till college starts! Yay! Three MWF classes and a Tuesday night class. Blegh. Still, better than the eight in the morning option.


	16. Chapter 16

(_Comes out waving a white flag_) I do seem to be doing that a lot, don't I? (_Sigh_) College has started up and I don't know how it is going to proceed. But I shall attempt to keep the chapters coming at a respectable rate. Let's see. If every year has twelve chapters, roughly, plus one to two between years, that would be...ooh boy, I'd better get typing faster if I want this finished before I die of old age. Or y'all do. Better get reading then.

* * *

Chapter XVI: Attack!

The sunny September weather soon gave way to what had to have been the wettest October on record. Higher up students cast umbrella like shields over their heads so they could walk across the courtyard at their leisure but still be dry. Lower students had to satisfy themselves with simply running as fast as they could or resorted to using their books to cover their heads and drying themselves as best as they could once they reached the other side.

For the most part, Chris had held his tongue in front of Lockhart, (in front of, mind you, not behind), and had kept his hand away from his wand while he was in class, lest he be tempted to curse Lockhart.

But that vow had broken the day before Halloween when Lockhart had tried to convince him to come up in front of the class and pretend to be a vampire that Lockhart had "vanquished."

"Does that mean I even get to rip your throat out?" he asked innocently. "I wonder how you taste. Chicken, perhaps."

To emphasize his point, Chris leaned forward and licked his lips, his eyes firmly fixated on Lockhart's nervously bobbing Adam's apple.

Lockhart paled.

"D-detention, Evans" he stammered out. "Tomorrow night."

Chris sat back in a huff. "I guess that's a no, then." He tested his canines with his tongue. "Shame, they _are_ nice and sharp today."

As they walked out, Chris snapped his teeth at Lockhart, causing the wizard to back up several feet. He and Draco were in tears by the time they reached the Great Hall, while Hermione simply looked disapproving. She had long ago given up trying to get Chris "to show respect for Professor Lockhart's achievements."

"You do realize you've landed yourself in detention on _Halloween_, no less?" she asked him deprecatingly.

"Oh, don't worry about that," said Chris, drying his eyes. "I've got an ace-in-the-hole there. I'll be here in time for the feast."

She narrowed her eyes. "Your ace-in-the-hole wouldn't happen to be that suggestion in the letter your mum sent you, would it?"

Chris grinned at her. "_Maybe_."

* * *

Halloween came but as the others left for the Great Hall, Chris made his way to Lockhart's classroom, where he was to do his detention.

When he walked in, it was to a stack of photographs on a desk, next to a fancy quill. Immediately, he knew what he would be doing and made a face. Lockhart, sitting at his own desk, with an equally huge pile of photographs and another quill, noticed his expression.

"Now, now, Mr. Evans, you did this to yourself," clucked Lockhart, smiling at the boy.

"I will not do it," he said staunchly.

Lockhart stared at him. "This is your detention. You are to do what I say, which is to sign those pictures with my name."

"And I repeat, I will not do it. Signing photographs, with your signature, no less, is wrong. It deludes people into thinking they got a 'genuine' Lockhart autograph, when it's nothing more than the scribblings of a twelve-year-old boy. And I won't be a part in it."

Lockhart sighed. "Do we need to take this issue up with the Headmaster?"

Chris innocently responded, "Only if you want me to add in that I thought I saw your hand drifting where grown men shouldn't place their hands on little boys."

This actually made Lockhart freeze, his face draining of all color. "That is preposterous. I would _never_–"

"I said, 'I think.' That little difference there could mean the difference, you know."

Chris smirked. Lockhart gulped.

"Very well then. We'll reschedule your detention for a more suitable punishment."

Chris made a mockery of a bow. "Why, thank you, professor. Now, I believe there is a feast going on, and there is a wonderful triple chocolate cheesecake up there calling my name."

And he left. Behind him, he could hear the rustling of a bottle, then a hiss as it opened.

It took him quite a few minutes to traverse the hallways, even though they were empty, pausing only once at the stairs when he was descending from the second floor to the first floor. Perhaps ten minutes had gone by when he heard a rustle and paused.

"Hello? Who's there?"

Another rustle, this time sounding like it was coming from up ahead, just around the next corner. Against his better judgment, Chris cautiously stepped forward, wand at the ready.

"_Hello_!"

The rustling faded away. He waited an extra minute, then moved out into the hallway, his wand tip lit up as he chanted the Light Charm at the same time.

There was nothing ahead but an empty stretch of hallway. He could hear the happy chatter of his schoolmates up ahead. He did not let his wand down until he was right at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"There you are!" said Draco. His plate was filled with bat-shaped nuggets and red-tinted pasta. "Did it work?"

"Oh, yeah. I think I've scared Lockhart away for quite some time." Up at the Staff Table, he could see that Lockhart's chair remained empty. He grabbed some of the nuggets himself, along with what appeared to be a pitcher of blood but was really thick ketchup. "He'll probably leave at the end of the school year just to get away from me."

"That was really mean," Hermione chastised him. "He's a professor, you shouldn't accuse him of things he didn't commit."

"Hermione, let me give you a piece of advice and perhaps an outside class project." He heard Draco's groan. "Take your set of Lockhart books that he so generously signed and gave to you and write down the dates and locations of every one of his exploits. You'll find that some of them he has quoted as occurring with an impossibly close timeline. Unless he has some form of time-travel unknown to the Ministry of Magic, he cannot have possibly been exorcising a disturbed Samurai ghost from a Japanese home at the same time he was hunting a particularly deadly Nundu in the deepest regions of Africa, an animal, which, may I remind you, no wizard has _ever_ taken down single-handedly, yet he claims to have done so."

"And you know this how?"

He made a face. "When Mum refused to buy me the books, I spent the rest of the summer looking him up on my computer. Did you know the Wizarding World has its own version of the Web?"

"Really?" said Hermione. She ignored her eyeball (actually little globes of onions) soup.

Draco was watching the two like a tennis match, wisely not saying a word, but taking everything in.

"Yeah, some Muggleborn that left the Magical World worked with the people who created the first PCs and inserted a code into the Muggle Web that, when typed into the address bar, immediately opens up to an online database of everyone in the magical world. Most of the stuff before it was launched in 1995 with the Windows system is still being fed into the system. Right now, you can't get anything before 1975, but they are working on it."

"What's the code?"

Chris smiled. "Instead of putting com or gov or org at the end, put mag. But you have to be careful and log out when you are done, because if you leave your connection idle for more than an half hour, it automatically kicks you out and won't grant access for another 24 hours, in case the computer has fallen into Muggle hands."

The main course disappeared, to be replaced with all sorts of desserts. He grabbed a chocolate spider before it could scurry away and bit its head off.

"Anywhere, where was I? Oh, right, Lockhart.

"One of the other features is that, for a small fee, you can download each of the books online for a far cheaper price than Flourish and Blotts sells the actual book for. I did a little recoding, set up a false account, and got the system to believe I had access to the books and downloaded them for free."

"But that's stealing! Pirating!"

Chris shrugged. "I sent them a couple of Galleons via Hedwig, what it would have cost to download them legally. I couldn't risk using Mum's credit card. Then she really _would_ be mad at me.

"I used the rest of the summer to browse his books. They looked good until I noticed that some events were happening at the same time as others. I wrote down those dates and compared them later. Hermione, fully a quarter of them took place at the exact time, down to recording him dueling several dark wizards at the same time in different countries! Now you tell me, is he really telling the truth?"

Hermione was silent.

"Tell you what, you go do that project and when you are finished, you and I can post the results all over the school. Lockhart will be out before you know it."

And he grabbed the gravestone cheesecake that he had been craving all day, a mixture of dark, milk, and white chocolate mixed in with the creamy cheesecake.

"Ah, bliss."

Stuffed to bursting after what seemed like hours, the students were finally dismissed. They were just starting to pour out when they heard an ear-splitting shriek. Everyone froze, then started stepping backwards as someone tried to push through the crowd.

"My cat! My cat's been killed!" howled Mr. Filch. "An' someone left a message in blood next to 'er!"

Dumbledore quickly strode forward, parting the students, and followed Mr. Filch. Quick on his heels was Professor Snape.

The Prefects, Head Boy and Girl, and the Professors promptly jumped into action and began herding the students to their respective houses.

"Didn't we do this last year?" joked Chris.

"It does seem to be remarkably similar," noted Hermione.

"At least it's not a troll this time," Draco said optimistically.

* * *

Over the next few days, many students found excuses to go past the scene of the crime. Dumbledore had determined that Mrs. Norris had not, in fact, been killed, but simply Petrified. The message on the wall eerily stated "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware." It had been painted in blood, though from what was yet to be determined.

There had never been such a long list for the library's limited copies of _Hogwarts: A History_.

Fortunately, because Hermione had not purchased and thus not packed the Lockhart books, she had had plenty of room in her bag for her own copy.

"_The Chamber of Secrets_," she read aloud to Chris and Draco, who were sitting on the latter's bed in their dormitory. The boys had found out through a love-sick boy who had tried to pursue his interests in an uninterested girl and found himself rolling head over heels that the stairs turned into a slide when any boy attempted to go up to the girls' dormitory, yet girls could go into the boys'. "_It is common knowledge that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was built by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Before Hogwarts was built, witches and wizards were taken as apprentices, most of these being the half-bloods and the purebloods. But the school changed everything. With a centralized location, witches and wizards of all families came from all over Great Britain to be taught in safety from Muggles who wanted them dead. The students were sorted into their Houses, named after the Founders, according to their personality traits. For a while, this worked._

"_But then discord began to spread. Slytherin began to express his opinion that Muggle-borns should not be taught magic, as since they came from Muggle families who had been raised to view magic as unnatural and worship of the Devil, they could possibly turn on Wizarding Society and destroy it from within. The other three disagreed, citing his pureblood heritage for his paranoid misconceptions. Slytherin, unable to change their views, and they, his, left the school._

"_According to legend, before Slytherin left, he built a secret chamber, only accessible by his descendents. In this Chamber, there was supposedly a monster that the Heir would unleash upon the school, cleansing it of all those of Muggle birth, so that they could not come of age and turn their full magical powers upon their fellow witches and wizards, thus ensuring the continued existence of the Magical World_."

She closed the book. "There are more details in there, but that's the general summary."

Silence reigned for a little bit.

"So...there's a monster loose in the castle determined to kill every Muggle-born it sees," said Chris finally. "That means you are a target, Hermione. But what kind of creature is it? What monster could Slytherin exercise control over that no one else could?"

Draco spoke up. "Salazar Slytherin had the ability to speak to snakes, called Parseltongue. It might be possible that whatever the creature is, it is some kind of reptile."

"Maybe it's a dragon," said Hermione, consulting her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. "They live for a very long time and have been known to occasionally kill humans for food."

Chris shook his head. "It would have to be something that could move inside the castle, but still be able to access it without being detected."

"What else could there be?" Draco asked Hermione.

She flipped back through to the beginning and began skimming. "Well, Ashwinders, but those don't live outside their fires but for a few minutes. They couldn't possibly live over a thousand years. Basilisks, but there haven't been any in Britain for over four hundred years. They were hunted to extinction, it seems. Not that there were many to begin with, seeing as the process is so complicated. Chimaera have the tail of a snake, so it might be possible that the tail could understand the instructions and pass it on. Mokes, but they are practically harmless. A Runespoor could be a possibility, so long as all three heads were still on it. Says it's not considered particularly vicious. Salamanders: again, harmless. Sea Serpents, but they only live in the water and don't attack people anyways."

She shut the book. They looked at each other.

"We have nothing," said Chris. "The only creatures that could possibly live that long couldn't be either sneaked in or still alive after a thousand years. Herpo the Foul's Basilisk only lived to be nine hundred and that was a stretch."

"And what are the chances that it is either a Basilisk or a Chimaera?" asked Hermione.

"Let me see that, Hermione," said Chris. He took her book and skimmed it, his fingers running down the pages. He murmured under his breath. "Neither of them says anything about petrifying their victims, only killing."

"What about other creatures in mythology?" mused Hermione. "Like the Medusa?"

"Couldn't be them," said Draco. "Greek wizards hunted them to extinction as well."

"So it looks like the only thing we can do for now is wait until another attack happens," said Chris, "and hope it isn't Hermione."

The girl nodded, her face white.

* * *

Oh, so close, yet so far! I have tried to retain Chris at a twelve-year old's way of thinking, but it rather hard when you haven't been there for near a decade yourself. (_Sigh_) I did wonder why nobody consulted their _Fantastic_ _Animals_ book in canon, yet it is a required book for all incoming witches and wizards. Sometimes I question why it takes a whole school year to figure everything out. Why not get it done by say, Christmas? Not that we're going to, I assure you!

A question that people have been hounding me about: Why is Alonzo in Britain, instead of attending Beaubaxtons with his friends? Well, if you were told you were someone famous, that your parents went to this premiere school, and it was down in their will that they wished their son to attend it when he came of age, don't you think he'd feel compelled to go? Guilt Trip 101! Of course, this can't be true, considering that if the will _had_ been released into the public knowledge, it would have destroyed Dumbledore's carefully laid plans. I smell some more manipulation here. (_Muses point at authoress in unison_) Oi!

Anyway, I shall attempt to get another chapter written within the next two weeks or so, but I don't make any promises. Do look for another _Harry_ _Potter_ story due to be published around Halloween. It will be short, five chapters total and is already written, only needing some editing. Details are in my profile. I also have another story idea creeping up behind that one, but it won't be published until it is completed. Random one-shots will pop up, especially stories featuring the Tenth Doctor. I am trying to get as many cleared off my hard drive before he regenerates this Christmas. This is my biggest story and with the rate chapters are going, I expect it may be as much as another year before the story is complete.

One can only hope I finish sooner.

Until next time.


	17. Chapter 17

The first person to complain about the lack of updates can go talk to my professors. I've got them for the next two to three years, but first I got to get through the Associate portion. Next fall, I begin the Bachelor's.

And believe me, this story will have an ending if I'm a little old lady and typing out the last few chapters before I keel over. Hope that's reassuring to y'all.

That said, an update, finally.

* * *

Chapter XVII: The Dangers of Dueling

For the entire month of November, the castle was silent. Students hurried to and from classes in tightly knit bunches, as though the culprit would burst out of a nook and petrify them too.

But nothing happened. As the days dragged by, no new victim appeared in the hospital wing. Only Mrs. Norris remained in there, in seclusion, until the Mandrakes that Sprout had conveniently acquired matured and could be brewed into a Depetrification Draught. But that wouldn't be until the spring.

As a matter of fact, the only interesting bit of the whole month was an announcement that there would be a Dueling Club starting up one night late in the month and held in the Great Hall. Volunteers for demonstrations could sign up, so long as they were Second Years or above. Draco smirked as he put his name on the short list of applicants.

"You up for it, Chris?"

"Only if you don't mind getting your butt whipped," replied Chris as he put his name right below Draco's. Both names glowed blue briefly, confirming they were in.

Hermione rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in exasperation. "Haven't even hit puberty yet and you can smell the testosterone."

Chris waved the quill tantalizingly in front of her. "Scared, Hermione?

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she snatched the quill and signed her own name. "You wish."

"_You_ get to duel her," muttered Draco quietly as Hermione rushed off to the library to find a copy of Dueling rules.

Suddenly, Chris felt very afraid.

* * *

That night, the entire population of Hogwarts found itself crowded into the Great Hall.

"Who do you reckon is doing it?" asfked Hermione.

"I don't know," replied Chris, "so long as it isn't–"

His hope died as Lockhart strode onto the platform, wearing deep purple robes. Behind him was Professor Snape, in his usual black attire and looking as though he would rather be castrated than work with Lockhart.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions – for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

Snape's upper lip was curling. Chris wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at _him_ like that, he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. The roadrunner would've have had _nothing_ on him.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"Two Sickles Professor Snape kills him," Chris said.

Draco shook his head. "No way, Chris. Professor Snape wouldn't kill Lockhart, no matter how much he wants to."

Hermione poked them both and shushed them, her attention focused on the duel.

"One – two – three–"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "_Expelliarmus_!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

The whole Hall groaned, some in sympathy, others in disappointment.

Lockhart unsteadily got to his feet, his hair standing on end as though he had been electrocuted.

"Well, there you have it," he said, tottering back onto the platform. Chris noted with satisfaction Lockhart was acting more ditzy than normal, probably due to the force that Professor Snape had infused his spell with.

"That was a Disarming Charm – as you see, I've lost my wand – ah, thank you, Miss Brown – yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind me saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy – However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs, the ones who volunteered. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me–"

Snape reached the three first. He looked over them, as if trying to decide who to pair off with whom. He beckoned three others over, one from each House. Draco got paired with Dean Thomas, while Hermione was paired with Millicent Bulstrode. Chris was paired with Ernie Macmillan, who sneered at them. Chris ignored him.

"All right, which pair wants to volunteer first?"

No one stepped forward. Lockhart's gaze swept the room, until it landed on Chris, who was trying to edge away without being noticed. Really, _Macmillan_...

"Mr. Evans!" he called brightly. Chris froze. "And Mr. Macmillan!"

Figuring he might as well get it over with, Chris stepped up to the stage and took his position.

"I do believe a prize of 10 points for the winner's House would be appropriate, don't you agree, Professor Snape?" chirped Lockhart.

Snape's knuckles were turning white from holding back his desire to curse Lockhart into the next century.

"Nothing Unforgivable or Dark now, kids! On three! One – two – three!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" cried Macmillan, still in the standard dueler's stance.

_Typical_, thought Chris, dropping down into a crouch as the charm whooshed overhead. From his position, he aimed a simple Tickling Charm. It hit Macmillan in the knees, but the effect was felt all over. Soon, Macmillan was laughing and, seizing the opportunity, Chris Disarmed the other boy. The wand slid easily from his loose fingers.

"Ten points to Ravenclaw!" cheered Lockhart. The rest of Ravenclaw cheered.

And so it went for half an hour. Teams composed of volunteers went on stage, while the rest of the school looked on. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris noticed Weasley was smirking and talking with a couple of other Slytherins. It appeared his Blood Traitor status in the eyes of Slytherin House was slowly but surely falling away. Either that, or he was more disposable than the idiot realized. More likely the latter.

As he watched, a higher level Slytherin waved his wand and murmured something under his breath. Weasley nodded, copying the motion. A black puff came out of the end and the older Slytherin nodded approvingly, then withdrew.

Next up was Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode. Bulstrode was easily twice Hermione's size, but in dueling, the smaller person generally had the advantage. Hermione gripped her wand tightly as they ascended and dropped into standard dueling positions. Hermione's stance was too tight, however, too by-the-book. Unless she moved, she would be an easy target.

"Three, two, one!"

"_Expelliarmus_!" cried Hermione. The spell didn't even phase Bulstrode as the stocky girl kept a tight hold on her wand and seemed to absorb the spell.

Hermione was just about to try again when Chris saw it. Weasley was concentrating on his wand and muttering under his breath.

_Oh, no, he isn't going to do what I think he might do._

With one final push, the red-headed Slytherin conjured a snake. Not just any snake, but a huge, shiny black one that didn't take too kindly to being summoned and immediately made for the nearest person.

Which happened to be Hermione, not even two feet away.

"No!" shouted Chris, rushing forward, wand forgotten. The yell distracted the snake long enough for Chris to literally jump onto the platform and push Hermione away to safety.

In doing so, however, the snake reacted by wildly lashing out. Chris hissed as he felt the fangs seize, than release his ankle as the snake was dissolved back into nothingness by Professor Snape, while Lockhart babbled nonsense.

His head was pounding, his stomach turning. The Great Hall was lit up in psychedelic colors and sounds as Professor Snape swooped in, snatched him up, and practically flew to his Potions Lab.

* * *

Severus Snape hastily strode though the school, hardly making a sound as he rushed past students, who parted without a word until he had gone, then broke out into whispers. There was hardly a second to waste and he daren't spend any of that in the Medical Wing while waiting for Poppy Pomfrey to diagnose, then fetch the correct potion, only to find she didn't have it in stock. Snake bites were so rare, even among magical people, that the Potions Master hadn't even been carrying any on him, especially at Hogwarts.

But his old instincts weren't so easily suppressed and he had a few older potions that should still work, having been stored in Stasis Charms for a decade or more.

He dumped Evans in a chair, taking care to raise the ankle to reduce blood flow to the bite. His ankle was starting to swell and the pinpricks were turning odd shades of purple and orange.

He quickly searched though his old potions until he found the one he wanted. It was a leftover from the previous war, when the Dark Lord would pour snake venom from his serpent into his victims' throats, then administer the antidote when he was finished for the day, just so he could continue to draw more information from them without inflicting mental harm. That was Bellatrix's area of expertise.

He pulled the boy's mouth open, and poured the luminescent green potion down his swollen throat, massaging it as he did so. The glow faded as Evan's strained esophagus worked it down into his stomach. For good measures, Snape poured the last few drops of the potion on the bite itself. The wounds absorbed the potion and the pinpricks faded until the scars looked like a pair of light brown freckles that would stay with the boy forever.

Snape sighed. If he didn't know better, he'd swear trouble was this boy's middle name.

* * *

Chris came around the next day. Or rather, night. He knew this by looking at the windows and seeing stars sprinkled across the sky, a three-quarters-full-moon illuminating the ward. He sat up, then almost fell down in surprise when he came face to face with a pair of green eyes.

"Dobby!" he yelped.

"Chris Evans remembers Dobby's name!" the elf cried joyfully.

Still suffering a mild heart attack, Chris looked around the ward. He was the only resident for the night.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

The elf's ears drooped. "Chris Evans promised Dobby, the first sign of trouble he'd leave. Why is Chris Evans still here?"

Thinking Dobby meant his ankle, he rolled his eyes. "Ok, look, this wasn't Voldemort's work. It was a stupid prank by a Slytherin."

"Not that, Chris Evans, not that!" the elf said, shaking his head. "The Chamber of Secrets, sir, it's been opened again!"

The elf froze in horror.

"Again? What do you mean, _again_? When did it open the first time?" demanded Chris.

But the house-elf was having a full blown panic attack and was desperately searching for something to bang his head on. Frustrated, Chris grabbed the house-elf by his pillowcase uniform.

"_When_, Dobby?" he demanded.

"Dobby cannot say!" the elf finally gasped.

They both froze as a loud banging noise was heard outside the hospital wing. A lamp flared up. Voices were heard.

"Dobby must go," whispered Dobby and with a snap of his fingers was gone.

Hurriedly, Chris rolled over, careful not to jar his ankle.

The footsteps turned out to be those of Dumbledore, who was backing into the hospital wing, carrying one end of what looked like a statue. The other end was being supported by Professor McGonagall. They put the statue on the nearest bed and Professor McGonagall immediately retrieved Madam Pomfrey.

"What happened?" Pomfrey whispered.

"Another attack," McGonagall responded, just as quiet. "Seems Mr. Macmillan here heard about Mr. Evans being moved to the Hospital Wing and tried to get a little revenge on him by pranking him and then taking an embarrassing picture of him. Very un-Hufflepuff of him."

Chris carefully and slowly turned, giving the impression he was merely rolling over in his sleep. With one eye, he was able to discern Ernie Macmillan, grinning like a loon and ready to take a picture with a camera he had obviously stolen off of that first-year Gryffindor boy that seemed to want to take pictures of everybody. He repressed a snort.

Dumbledore reached out and pried the camera out of Macmillan's rigid grip.

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?" said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore didn't answer, but merely opened the back of the camera. The three adults started as a jet of steam came out of the camera, accompanied by the stomach-turning smell of burnt plastic. It was almost enough to make Chris want to throw up.

"Melted," said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly "All melted..."

"What does this _mean_, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked urgently.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again."

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

"But Albus...surely..._who?"_

"The question is not _who_," said Dumbledore, his eyes on Macmillan. "The question is, _how_..."

And from what Chris could see of Professor McGonagall's shadowy face, she didn't understand this any better than he did.

* * *

Warning: Lots of notes below.

So, in a lot of ways, what you've seen here, you've seen in the book. _However_, I've also added in my own little twists. Because Chris doesn't speak Parseltongue, he can't stop the snake from reacting, but his saving-others thing kicks in and he gets bitten instead of Hermione. How did he leap up there? Just like us plain Muggles can sometimes do extraordinary things, like lift a car off a loved one, so can a magical person accidentally harness his or her magic and force it to do what he or she wants in a desperate situation.

Macmillan vs. Colin: I couldn't use Colin, as there's no way the boy would have a good reason to follow Chris around. Thus, I switched to the revenge factor, which isn't seen very much in Hufflepuff House. Macmillan's determination to work hard won over his Slytherin-like attitude, hence his house. Still, no one's perfect. Not everyone in Gryffindor is good or Slytherin bad, for example.

One thing I am finding from reviewers (oh, yes, I may not answer them due to my busy schedule, but I do read them very quickly) is that Ron seems to be behaving like canon-Malfoy. I shall attempt to explain some of that soon, the rest I'm correcting as I go along.

My five-part Halloween _Harry Potter_ story was published on schedule (for once) and there is also a _Doctor Who_ oneshot up. I have seen _Waters of Mars_, very interesting, sad ending, but the trailer for Christmas promises the best Doctor's Swan Song in almost half a century. I am trying to clear my hard drive off of _Doctor_ Who stuff over the next thirty days or so, but I doubt I'll succeed. I still have a story sequel I haven't even started yet (_Life After Death_) and probably won't come out till the summer anyways, by which time #11 will be in the TARDIS.

As for that whole National Writers Month thingy, I don't commit myself to it, though I do have an idea in the works that hasn't ever been seen before and would be sold in bookstores under my real name should it ever properly formulate. I only have the roughest idea outline sketched out. Bright side: being a book, you wouldn't have to wait for updates, just sequels.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. To my non-American readers, I send you virtual turkeys as consolation prizes.

-MM


	18. Chapter 18

Has it been over a year since this story was started? It doesn't feel that way to me. (_Sigh_) At least I'm not so depressed anymore. David Tennant's leaving _Doctor_ _Who_ was inevitable, but I really wish he hadn't left. Unfortunately, DT's still in a catatonic state, but I hope he'll be up and running in the coming days. March 27th, people, _Doctor_ _Who_ returns with _The Eleventh Hour_! Let's see if Mr. Smith's up to the task of filling not only Tennant's shoes, but nine other men's as well. And that's not even counting the men who played him in one-off, non-canon shows!

_Aaanyway_, back to the story at hand. Such as it is. I will be so glad when I can spill the beans.

* * *

Chapter XVIII: A Bad Case of Diary-iah

Perhaps it was a good thing that Severus Snape was not Headmaster or else he may have considered granting Filch's wishes of corporal punishment. As it was, he was glaring down at the green-bedecked Ronald Weasley before him, who was slumped down in his chair, refusing to meet Snape's eyes.

"Mr. Weasley."

Weasley reluctantly raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "Sir," he said quietly.

Dumbledore leaned forward. "Did you mean to conjure that snake?"

"No, sir."

"Was it your intent to show off?"

"No, sir, it just…happened."

"Very well. One hundred points will be docked from Slytherin, Mr. Weasley, and I believe a month's worth of detention with Mr. Filch will suffice. Dismissed."

The boy ran out, not even bothering to shut the door on his way. With a snarl, Snape slammed the door.

"He is lying!"

"Can you prove that, Severus? He does admit to conjuring the snake, but not on purpose. Accidental magic can still occur in young witches and wizards who are attending school." Dumbledore smiled and offered Snape a lemon drop.

Irritated, Snape batted the dish away. "Only if we performed Legilimency on the impudent boy and as the act is illegal on an underage wizard, the only thing we would gain would be furious parents."

"Quite right, m'boy, quite right."

There was silence. Then Snape spoke in a low and dangerous tone.

"Should I _ever_ find Mr. Weasley in a similar position with _any_ student, I cannot guarantee the boy will find his way to your office intact."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Grown fond of Mr. Evans, have you?"

Snape's voice was tight. "No, Headmaster, I simply do not want there to be any… _misunderstandings_." With a sweep of his cloak, Snape left.

Dumbledore sagged into his chair as soon as he heard the lock click. In truth, he had used wandless magic to _Legilimens_ the boy. Quite easy to do, considering Ronald Weasley had no shields to speak of. The only things on the boy's mind were Quidditch and his mother's reaction to a failed assassination attempt, which, knowing that woman, would be a Howler. Well, he definitely wouldn't be sending an owl to Molly Weasley. Both she and her son didn't have enough tact for anything, save maybe chess, a game at which the boy excelled.

After all, he needed the Weasley family for two practical reasons, one of which was a little harder. The Weasley family was well known for being on the Light side during the last war against Voldemort. With there being no proof of the Dark Lord's permanent demise, he needed their alliance when Voldemort returned. With the Weasleys next to him, no one would doubt Dumbledore's status as Leader of the Light. Expelling their youngest son for attempted murder would muddle the waters and shake faith in Dumbledore.

Secondly, he had secretly promised Molly Weasley that Ginny would be the future Mrs. Potter. The problem lay within that he knew from a glance at Alonzo Frame that the boy definitely wasn't Harry Potter. The scar on the boy's forehead didn't quite match the one from all those years ago, when he had dropped the boy off at Petunia Dursley's home. It was almost as if the boy had fallen and scraped his head, leaving a scar shaped somewhat like a lightning bolt, but not an exact duplicate. For another thing, when he had asked for a drop of blood to grant access to the Potter vaults, the Frames had refused, stating religious reasons.

This meant that somewhere out there, Harry Potter was still hidden. But so long as Alonzo Frame attended Hogwarts, he couldn't exactly launch another full scale search without attracting undue attention.

* * *

Chris left the hospital wing a couple of days after being bitten. The puncture wounds would eventually fade away, leaving him with only two dots so small they could have been mistaken for freckles.

As he limped out in the direction of Ravenclaw Tower, the muscles still tender, he passed Professor Snape. The tall man stopped, nodded once, then billowed past, students stepping to the sides as he did so. Confused, Chris carried on.

He had no sooner answered the riddle ("What goes up but never comes down?" "Your age.") than he was tackled by Hermione, driving all thoughts of the nutty house-elf from his mind.

"Umph! Can't! Breathe! Her-my-knee! Let – go!"

"I can't believe you did that!" she babbled, letting go. "You could've died! You are so lucky Professor Snape was there!"

"Hold up, what do you mean?"

"No one's told you?" asked Draco, while Hermione continued to wipe tears away.

"No, I remember being bitten, then waking up in the hospital wing this morning. Madam Pomfrey said I'd been bitten by a particularly nasty snake, but the poison had been cleaned out of my system and I could leave any time I wished."

"After you were bitten, Professor Snape scooped you up and ran out of there," said Draco. "We ran after him, but he was moving too fast. We could tell he was not going in the direction of the Hospital Wing."

"How long was I out?"

"Three days," said Hermione in a small voice.

"_Three_ _days_?!" Chris collapsed into the nearest chair.

"Still, at least you're not like Macmillan," said Draco optimistically, sinking into another chair, while Hermione sat down primly across from him. "Christmas is only a few weeks away and he'll be stuck in the hospital wing as a statue."

"Why him, though?" asked Chris. "Why did he get petrified?"

"Wrong place, wrong time," said Hermione.

"He does have a very long pureblood line, stretching back nine generations," said Draco, "or so he says."

"He also is very good friends with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who is Muggleborn," said Hermione logically. "I was talking with Justin, about our schools. He was heading for Eton, while I was going to go to Heathfield School, both of which are very highly held in the Muggle world for education. It is possible the Heir viewed him as a traitor for working with Justin."

"All this shows is that the Heir doesn't care if your blood is pure, if you associate with anyone with a trace of Muggle, you are a target." Chris lifted his eyes to meet Draco's. "Which means you are as much at risk as Hermione is."

The silence in the room was deafening.

* * *

Three weeks passed without incident. Classes sped by and soon students were leaving Hogwarts for Christmas. Chris, Hermione, and Draco had already decided to head home for the holidays and so did not sign the list that came around.

Before their parents came, Chris gave out a final order.

"Here's the plan. When we come back, we need to be familiar with creatures that petrify and/or kill at a glance. Hermione, you research the Muggle ones. Draco, the Magical ones. See if there is _any_ overlap, any clues that we have overlooked, even if it seems far-fetched."

"I saw the groundskeeper – Hagrid, you remember, right? – with a dead rooster yesterday. Perhaps this is a clue?" said Hermione.

"_Anything_ is a clue, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. "Shouldn't we tell our parents?"

Chris snorted. "What, that there's some kind of creature prowling the school, turning the students into statues, and that said person is the Heir to a man who believed in the extermination of all non-pure-blooded magical folks? Sure, Hermione, but I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't see you come next semester. And you _know_ my mum would pull me out in a heartbeat."

Hermione gulped. "Ok, so don't tell the parents."

"Yeah." Chris sighed. "Don't tell the parents."

* * *

The Christmas holidays passed in a blur. Chris spent most of it cross-checking possible creatures, so much that even his mother began to wonder about his sleep. Finally, Christmas Eve, she had had enough and disconnected the internet. He squawked in protest.

"We need to talk, Chris."

Reluctantly, Chris closed the laptop.

"Now what has you so wrapped up you have forgotten to eat or sleep the past week? Christmas is tomorrow."

Chris shifted in his seat. He had hoped not to have to tell his mother about the events at the school until the Heir had been caught.

"It's just school work, honest."

Rose pressed her lips together, all the while looking like McGonagall. "Even you don't attack your school work with such determination." Casually, she asked, "Is there a problem I should know about?"

Chris thought for a second. "No, no problems at all."

His heart twinged at the lie, but really, it wasn't like anyone had been killed so far.

She nodded and turned the internet back on. "All right, then."

He blew out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding as his mother left the room and resumed his research on the cockatrice.

* * *

Rose was certain Chris was lying to her. But unless he came right out and told her what was going on, there wasn't a thing she could do. It was times like this she really regretted not telling him the whole truth. Like he would believe her story anyway. There were times even she had to pinch herself to remind herself of the reality of the situation.

She turned back to her paper. There was a small article about Peter Pettigrew in the _Evening Prophet_. The traitor had been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss and executed shortly thereafter. His body had been burned, and the ashes scattered to the four winds.

She chuckled. Finally, something went right with her plans.

* * *

When the students returned to school, it was obvious the changes that had been made. Each student and his/her property were screened upon arrival by Filch for Dark objects. Once the students had cleared that area, they were grouped in fours to ride up to the castle in the horseless carriages. The path itself had little glowing rocks every few feet up until the entrance to the castle. Minor ward stones, Chris noted detachedly, that only activated if someone tried to cross them. Beside him, Hermione sat straight up; across from him, Draco stared out the window and Neville fidgeted with his fingers.

As they exited their carriage and passed through the gates, they felt a shudder pass through them as the wards did another passive scan.

They took their seats at the Ravenclaw table, while Neville went to the Gryffindor table. The air was very solemn, but there was still whispering. Taking advantage, Chris leaned over.

"So, anything new happen over the break?"

"There was another Petrifying," muttered Draco. "A double attack."

"Who?"

"A Gryffindor third-year, Angelina Johnson, and Nearly-Headless Nick. Odd, really, when you think that a ghost was Petrified." Draco snorted. "Looks like Gryffindor is going to have to find a new Chaser."

Sure enough, Oliver Wood, Gryffindor's Quidditch Captain, was fiercely whispering with the other members of his team.

"This means we'll need to work faster to find whoever is behind this," said Hermione. "There were about a dozen people who stayed at the castle over the break. They will most likely be questioned, but if the Heir was smart, he or she gave instructions to the monster to not attack until after the Heir left school grounds, to avoid suspicion."

The boys nodded in agreement.

* * *

True to form, all students that had stayed over break were found to have had alibis at the time of the attack. New sanctions had been put in place, including a curfew and mandatory professor escorts to classes.

The most worrisome part of these mysterious petrifications was Nearly Headless Nick. Whatever this creature was, it had the ability to petrify the dead, something that was practically unheard of in the Wizarding World.

And to be unheard of, well, that _definitely_ wasn't good news.

* * *

It was three weeks after the start of term, after a double period of Potions with the Hufflepuffs, that Chris broke ranks from Draco and Hermione. After three hours in the dungeon listening to bubbling cauldrons, his bladder _really_ needed emptying.

He darted in the direction of the closest little wizard's room. Thankfully, he found an empty one. Even better, this bathroom, instead of having the urinals and toilets in public, had little stalls encompassing pairs of them.

He was almost finished when he heard the bathroom door slam open and light footsteps run in to the stall opposite him. There was a grunt and a plop.

Concerned, Chris leaned against the wall. "Hey, mate, are you all right?"

There wasn't a response, but the person flushed the toilet and Chris heard his (at least, he assumed it was a he, after all, this was the boys' room) footsteps run away and the bathroom door slam open and shut again.

"Hey, you forgot to wash your hands!" he called. He snorted, zipping up his pants. "Basic sanitary procedure, I hate it when people don't wash their hands."

He unlatched his door and made to wash his hands in the sink. To his surprise, he stepped into a puddle of water.

"What the–?"

The water was spreading from the toilet opposite his.

"Oh, great."

He sighed and cautiously opened the door. To his surprise, a book floated to a stop right in from of him. It was small, dark brown, and very wet. He picked it up, wary. He'd heard of books that did very nasty things and he wasn't about to be cursed to forever walk around talking in limericks because he let his curiosity run away from him.

A small date on the front indicated it was first published fifty years ago. On the first page, he could barely make out the name "T.M. Riddle." He continued to cautiously peel the wet pages apart, but there wasn't anything on them, not one drop of ink. On the back was the name of some variety stone on Vauxhall Road in London.

He frowned. Riddle? He pocketed the diary, resolving to research the name later.

* * *

Now before you all go, he should know that, considering he knows what Voldemort's real name is. Consider these points: One – he's a kid with an attention span of about ten minutes. Being that he can remember anything about that name, however vague, is pretty good. Two – the name Riddle is a pretty common name, almost as common as Tom.

Something else I want you to consider (and I know this might hit a few sour notes and tread on a few toes) that wasn't as prominent in the books as blood status. Did you ever notice that all of Voldemort's Death Eaters (at least, the ones we are given) were white? Apparently, not only did he believe in blood purity, but picked up on another tidbit that had been festering not only in the Wizarding World, but the Muggle as well: that non-whites don't hold the same rank as whites. Take the Patel twins, for example. Even if their bloodline was longer than the Blacks, they would still be considered second-class because of their Indian heritage. It's a cold, sad fact. Hence, why I chose Angelina for the Petrification. Even JK didn't fully grasp this point. Notice it was whites who were petrified and a white girl taken to the Chamber?

In other story news, I am going to be writing a bunch of oneshots, hopefully getting them all done by March 27, reasoning at the top of the chapter. These "Ten for Ten" are going to be either focused on or revolving around either the Tenth Doctor or 10.5, as the human Doctor is known. This is my new goal, besides updating this story a bit more frequently. Also, I'm going to be tweaking the Group so it works better, namely how the chapters are uploaded.

-MM


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